


Hungry Like the Wolf

by MusicIsTheSoulOfMan



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Gen, Pack Dynamics, Season 2, Supernatural Elements, The Many Adventures of Daryl the Wolf, Universe Alteration, Walkers, Werewolves, Wolf!Daryl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicIsTheSoulOfMan/pseuds/MusicIsTheSoulOfMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He crawled awkwardly over to his small wash basin and found his shaving mirror. Staring back at his was a gold furry face.<br/>Not his face. The face of a wolf. Daryl Dixon promptly passed out."</p><p>Daryl gets bit by a wolf while out hunting one afternoon. The next morning he wakes up with a furry ass and no idea how it happened. Completely unable to communicate with his group, he realizes he's at their mercy. Any slip-ups are likely to get him chased off or shot. </p><p>Follows Season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting this story on here for those who aren't on FF.net. I already have 6 chapters, so don't worry about time between updates for now. I will post another chapter every couple days (Until I am caught up) so that it has time to catch on with people. Enjoy! This takes place during Season 2, starting around Secrets or so. It doesn't really show the story line until chapter 6.

**Chapter One**

 

          Daryl Dixon crouched low to the forest floor, listening closely to the nature surrounding him. He had been observing a fresh set of paw prints that clearly belonged to a wolf. He removed the crossbow from his shoulder and loaded a bolt onto it as quietly as he could. He knew the animal was close by, and wanted to get rid of it so the vermin wouldn’t hunt his game.

     Daryl waited until he heard the rustling of the leaves before he swung around a tree and aimed his crossbow. He caught sight of the wolf and quickly lined his shot and took it, knowing the animal would bolt at a second’s hesitation. With a shrill yelp, the wolf went down. Daryl lowered his weapon and smirked. He approached the still form and examined his target.

     It really was a beautiful creature, with its deep brown fur coat. It really was too bad it had to die. Daryl inspected his shot. The arrow was lodged in the wolf’s right shoulder. It shouldn’t have been a killing shot, but the wolf seemed to be dead. As the hunter went down to retrieve his arrow from his prey, there was a snarl and a flash of white as the wolf lunged up suddenly and sunk its fangs into Daryl’s forearm. Daryl cried out and stumbled back in surprise. The animal clung hard to the limb for a moment, giving it an awful tear before turning tail and fleeing from sight. Daryl clutched his arm to his chest, blood running freely through the fingers that gripped over the throbbing wound.

     “Son of a BITCH!” he gnashed out between his clenched jaw.

     Once the initial shock of the attack had worn off, Daryl quickly tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt and wrapped the bite tightly, hoping it wouldn’t keep bleeding for long. He cursed the wolf again before angrily picking up his crossbow and heading back the farm where his group was.

________________________________________

     “I suppose it would be beneficial to dig out a well around in that area,” Hershel Greene said, leaning over the blueprints to his farmland.

     Rick Grimes nodded. “And we’ll do the work since it’s our group that’s on your land.”

     The man standing next to the ex-deputy, Shane Walsh, rolled his eyes, but kept any snide remarks to himself. His eyes were drawn to movement coming towards them. It was Daryl, appointed hunter of the group. Shane looked away from the Dixon, his usual dislike for the man keeping him from taking interest in what he had to offer.

     “Hey, Daryl,” Rick saw the hunter too then. “What did you manage to catch out the —,” the words died in his mouth and Shane glanced up.

     “What’s wrong?” Rick questioned.

     Shane glanced over at the hunter to see him storming past them.

     “Stupid animal got me,” Daryl growled at them.

     That’s when Shane saw the blood soaking though the fabric wrapped around the hunters arm. He quickly intercepted the hunter.

     Daryl didn’t take to kindly to the intrusion of space and glared at Shane. “Outta my way,” he snapped.

     Shane leveled the redneck with an equal glare. “What’s wrong with your arm?” He asked, crossing his arms in front of him. “You get bit out there?”

     The hunter looked ready to explode. “Yeah, but it was by a damn wolf, ya prick!” He tried to shoulder his way past Shane, but the ex-cop was quick to reach out and snatch Daryl’s wrist.

     “You really expect me to believe that,” he said angrily.

     “Shane,” there was the warning voice of Rick.

     That’s when Dixon _did_ snap.

     “You get yer hands off me!” He snarled, yanking his arm out of Shane’s grip and back pedaled and few feet, his eyes glinting with anger, and a certain other emotion.

     Shane suddenly realized it was fear that also reflected in the hunter’s eyes. As he strode over to grab Daryl again, Rick was suddenly in his face. “Leave him be,” his voice was sharp and hard.

     Shane took a step back from his friend. “He’s bit, Rick!” He moved so he could see Daryl behind Rick’s tall form. The hunter was holding his wounded arm close and glaring daggers at Shane. “There’s no way I’m lettin’ him back into the group without confirmation it’s not a Walker that bit him.” He turned his steely gaze back to Rick.

     Rick sighed and turned to Daryl. “Daryl,” he began.

     The hunter immediately cut him off. “No way! He’s not puttin’ his filthy mits on me!”

     Shane’s lips curled into a snarl and he was about to jump Dixon when the forgotten voice of Hershel Greene spoke.

     “Enough!” his soft voice had a commanding edge to it. He turned to Daryl. “Now son, I am qualified to handle bites, you best let me take a look at that to make sure it’s not serious.”

     “It wasn’t a damn Walker!” Daryl yelled.

     “Doesn’t matter, son,” Hershel shook his head, “Even animal bites can make you sick if they go untreated. Now,” he put out his hand. “Let me see.”

     Daryl’s eye flitted nervously between Rick and the old man as he took another half step back.

     “It’s alright Daryl, let him see,” Rick encouraged the redneck.

     Shane scoffed. He couldn’t believe his friend was trying to reason with the man. Dixon was a stubborn asshole who needed to be shown his place. But, to his complete surprise, the redneck slowly extended his arm to the old man, who took the limb in his hands and began unwrapping the crude bandaging. Shane watched intently as Greene wiped away some of the blood and examined the wound.

     “Well?” Daryl asked restlessly.

     Greene glanced sternly at the redneck and turned his attention back to the arm. “Well,” the farmer said after a moment more. “It’s definitely a dog bite. You can see the imprints of the teeth here.” He grazed his fingers along the hunter’s arm.

     Rick nodded in finality. “Alright then, that’s settled.”

     Shane smirked and glared at Dixon before turning around and walking back to the farmhouse. Ever since they had made it to the Greene’s homestead, it seemed that Rick seemed to be trusting more in the redneck as each day went by. _His_ best friend was replacing him with some white trash hillbilly from God-knows-where. Shane ground his teeth as he took off past the house and toward the field to blow off steam, his dislike for redneck increasing exponentially.

______________________________________

     Daryl watched the retreating figure warily. He really, really didn’t like Shane. The warm, calloused hands gently probed around the bite wound on his forearm. Daryl winced in pain and pulled away. “Ya don’t hafta keep touchin’ it!”

     Hershel’s kind old eyes met his in admonition, but he let Daryl go. “It’s not too bad,” he stated. “A little inflamed and irritated, but nothing a good cleaning and wrapping won’t take care of. I’ll make sure you get clean bandages if you make sure to get all the dirt out of it.”

     Daryl huffed and nodded. “Thanks, Old Man.” He said, turning to head to his tent.

     Hershel turned to Rick. “I’m not gonna get any trouble from those two, am I?” he warned Rick, looking at Daryl, and then back to where Shane had left.

     Rick sighed tiredly. “No, you won’t,” he said. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure that statement was entirely true.

__________________________________________________

     Daryl sighed as he turned in to his tent that evening. With his belly mostly full and his bite wound cleaned, wrapped up tight and reduced to a dull throb; his eyes were growing heavy. His movements were sluggish as he moved around his living area, unlacing his boots and grabbing up a blanket. He laid himself out on his sleeping bag and settled his head on his pillow. Almost immediately, he drifted off into a world of slumber.

     Waking was strange. He was way too warm and couldn’t breathe right. He tried to throw off his blanket, but his limbs were uncoordinated. He shook his head to knock the covers down and suddenly, a hundred different smells hit his nose. He gasped and struggled to stand. What was going on? Why wouldn’t his body listen to him? What were those damn _whining_ noises? He finally sprung free of his bed and crashed into the floor. There was a yelp, and _god damn it_ it was him that was making those ridiculous noises. He carefully got to his hands and knees. That much as working for him at least. But as soon as he attempted to stand, he was on the floor again. He was beginning to panic. He put his arms out in front of him and—He froze. There were long furry limbs with paws extending in front of him. _What. The. HELL?_ His already erratic breathing increased and his head felt extremely lite. When he moved his arm, the furry leg moved too. When he curled his wrist, the paw moved around as well. He tried to stand again and fell. He crawled awkwardly over to his small wash basin and found his shaving mirror. Staring back at his was a gold furry face.

Not his face.

The face of a wolf.

Daryl Dixon promptly passed out.

_____________________________________________


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two. :)

**Chapter Two**

 

      “Daryl! Daryl, are you in there?”

       His sense of hearing came before anything else. He tried to open groggy eyes, but sleep still had a hold over him. That crazy-ass dream of being a wolf came back to his mind and he shook his head to clear the cobwebs.

     “Daryl!” It was Carol’s voice. He barely heard the unzipping sound of his tent before hearing a gasp.

     He finally got his eyes opened, and turned his head to see Carol looking at him, wide-eyed and mouth open. _What are you lookin’ at? And why are you lookin’ in my tent?_ Was what he thought he had said. All he heard back was a strange combination of snarls and whines. _What the hell?_ He tried speaking again. Clipped growls were all that followed. He noticed Carol had left, but he was starting to panic over his predicament again. He slowly rose to his feet, this time knowing that he had four of them, and found his balance.

     His felt his ears move forward when he heard more voices approaching.

     “…and you think it’s a wolf?” Shane. Why was Shane coming over?

     “Yes! It’s certainly doesn’t look like a domestic dog! It growled at me when I looked into his tent.” That was Carol again.

     Footsteps came right up to his tent, and the tent flapped was pulled open again. This time it was Shane’s face that appeared. His angry eyes immediately met Daryl’s.

    _Threat! Threat! Threat!_ Alarm bells were ringing through Daryl’s head. He went low to the ground and bared his teeth, snarling. _What the hell am I doing?_ Was what the rational side of his brain was saying. But he didn’t look away from Shane and continued to express his dislike for the man.

     Shane’s eyes narrowed and he quickly fastened the tent closed again. “That thing’s gotta go.” The ex-cop snapped. “It’s not tame and could attack anyone, given the chance.”

     “I don’t know,” came Carol’s soft spoken voice. Daryl’s posture eased a bit. “Maybe we should just find Daryl and get an explanation from him.”

    “Oh, I plan on it.” Shane said, and then they were walking away from his tent.

    The tension running through Daryl’s body slowly lessened and he was able to begin to think through things.

     _What it god’s name happened to me? How the hell is this even real?_ Daryl looked down at his feet (paws). He lowered his head and brushed his nose (snout) down his front leg. A dirty white bandage was still wrapped around what used to be his right arm. He shook the limb and dislodged the wrapping. The wound was still there, but wasn’t as painful as it had been. He swung his head around and investigated his back. Most of his fur was a golden orange, but down his back were rifts of deep russet. He noticed his paws were the same darker color. A lighter cream color splashed his belly and covered the inside of his legs. He observed powerful hind legs and a thick, bushy, red-orange tail with a dark tip. _I have a tail. A god damn TAIL!_ He experimented with its movement, and at his command, it swished back and forth. He was amused by the motion and continued waving it. He then snapped out of his revelry with the thought: _This is real. This is freakin’ real._ He had somehow been turned into Goldilocks the Wolf overnight. A surge of anxiety ran through him. Nobody knew it was him either. They would all think he was just an animal, and drive him away from the farm. Or kill him. Panic filled his mind at that thought and he began to pace the short floor space of the tent. Suddenly he felt too confined. His nervousness made itself known in the form of quiet whimpers.

     “He can’t just keep a wolf here without telling anyone! I don’t care where he is, that thing has to be taken care of.”

     His head jerked up at the sound of footsteps and voices again. Shane was coming again. The hackles on the back of Daryl’s neck stood and his ears laid back. The instinct to run was overpowering, but he had nowhere to go.

     Then Rick’s voice joined in. “Until we find Daryl, the wolf stays unharmed. He must have some explanation to why he has it.” Rick! Ears perked and Daryl had hope. He knew if he could get on Rick’s good side, he would be protected. Maybe he could convince the deputy of who it actually was in the wolf’s body.

     They were right outside the tent again and Daryl backed himself into the corner farthest from the entrance.

     “We’re at least tying it up,” Shane was speaking again and the tent was unzipped. Two forms blocked Daryl’s only escape. Both men eyed him cautiously. Daryl crouched low to the ground, watching them intently.

     Shane lifted a pole in his hand and Daryl saw the noose at the end of it. He balked.

     “Here doggy,” Shane’s voice feigned all soothing tones. He moved the catcher’s pole towards the wolf.

     Daryl began to panic. His eyes darted everywhere, looking for escapes. He eventually landed on Rick’s gaze, who seemed surprise at the eye contact.

     There was a sudden flurry of movement as Shane lunged and Daryl bolted. He shot past the despised man and nearly hit Rick in his plight for escape. He ducked low and threw himself through the open tent flap, tasting the fresh air in his nose. He had done it! He was –

     Daryl gave a sharp yelp as he was jerked back by his neck. He whirled around, ready to launch himself on Shane, when he saw it was Rick who was holding the length of rope that had slipped around his head.       

     _Damn it!_ Daryl hadn’t even noticed that Rick had the rope.

    Rick’s posture was guarded, his gaze determined. Daryl bared his teeth, but didn’t fight him. He slowly lowered himself to the ground as a show of submission.

     The surprise flowed from Rick’s eyes and face.

     Shane stumbled out of the tent, eyes blazing. “Stupid dog!” he exclaimed. He suddenly saw the wolf at Rick’s feet.  “What the hell!” he spluttered. “How did you get it to do that?” he motioned angrily and Daryl only supposed it was because he was seemingly calmed.

     But at Shane’s outburst, he halfway rose, baring his teeth and backing against the rope that held him. Shane took a step towards him and he gave a warning snarl.

     The rage was evident in Shane’s eyes, but Rick put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. He gestured off in the distance. “I’ll tie him over by the shed. You go tell everyone not to approach him until we get this all figured out.”

     Shane glared at the wolf, but nodded and stormed off.

     Daryl didn’t take his eyes of Shane and watched the angry man leave.

     “Hey, psspss,” Rick’s voice grabbed his attention, and he turned to see the man crouching at the other end of the rope.

     Daryl turned his ears up and tilted his head at him. He let the fur on his shoulders relax and rose to a sitting position.

     Rick studied him.

     “You sure are a strange one,” he stated, smiling at the wolf. Curiosity entered his eyes.

     Daryl was on guard when Rick slowly took a step towards him. The man was still squatting so that he was on the same level as the wolf.

     Rick took several more steps toward him and extended his fist to him. Daryl lowered his ears nervously as the hand approached. But when it got about half a foot away from his face, it stopped advancing.

     Daryl looked up at Rick. _What the hell do you want?_ He suddenly realized that Rick was treating him like a strange dog. He extended his nose out and gave a couple sniffs for show. Rick’s scent was earthy and friendly. His mind cataloged the smell.

     Rick’s fingers uncurled and the hand reached out further still, settling on top of his head.

     Daryl jerked back under the touch and yanked at the end of the rope, giving an unhappy whine. _Whine? Really, Dixon?_ He mentally scolded himself for reacting that way, but he wasn’t expecting the foreign weight of the hand on his head.

     “Hey, hey,” Rick’s soothing voice was back, his hand pulled back and raised to show Daryl he didn’t mean harm. “Ok, you’re ok, I won’t touch you!” Damn that voice. Daryl was having a hard time not trusting it.

     Rick stood slowly. “We’ve gotta get you over there,” he nodded over to the shed across the field. He took an experimental step back, stretching the rope slightly.

     Daryl felt the uncomfortable rub of the loop around his neck, and took a step towards Rick to get rid of the tension in the noose. He knew how this worked; he’d walked enough dogs before to know how he was expected to respond. And he hated it.

     “Come on,” Rick said, not turning his back on the wolf, but started his way to the shed.

     Daryl picked up his feet and followed. He wasn’t entirely used to the feeling to walking on all fours, but it came naturally enough to him in this body. He trotted next to Rick as they made their way over the land to reach the small shack-like building.

     They walked straight up to the building, and Rick bent down next to a post and began wrapping the rope around it. Daryl watched as Rick spun a difficult looking knot. The man gave it a tug, and looked satisfied. He turned back to Daryl, still squatted down.

     “You behave now, ya’hear?” He said. “We’ll find Daryl and get this all sorted out.”

     Daryl gave a start and remembered that the others didn’t know that he _was_ Daryl.

     As Rick stood, turned away, Daryl wracked his brain to figure out how to get the man to understand. He started to yell at Rick and pull at the rope.

     _Jus’ hold on there! I AM Daryl! I don’t know what’s happened to me! Why don’t you freakin’ HELP me instead of tying me way out here where I can’t do nothin’!_

     Barks, yips, growls, whines, and any other related noise was assaulting his ears. He felt panic bubbling up in his chest at the thought of being left alone away from the group. He didn’t know how to handle it. He was frantically jerking at the rope, but all it did was tighten around his neck, which made him pull harder.

     “Whoa!” Rick’s voice didn’t quite cut through the haze of his panic.

    Suddenly, there were hands on either side of his head. Daryl froze, panting furiously.

     The hands weren’t hurting him, just holding him still.

     “Come on now,” Rick soothed, his fingers slowly traveling down his throat and slipping between Daryl’s fur and the rope. The man gave a tug and the tension lessened a bit. Daryl took a few deep breathes.

     “What was that all about now?” Rick asked, hands still settled into his fur, working back and forth. Daryl had to admit that it was incredibly comforting and grudgingly accepted that it didn’t feel too bad at that.

     He turned his pleading eyes up to Rick, wondering how to get the man to understand. An idea suddenly hit him, and he raised his right paw up and stretched it out to Rick, trying to show him the bite wound from the day before.

     Rick’s confused gaze went down to his leg. He seemed to understand immediately.

     “You’re hurt!” he exclaimed, taking the leg into his hand and carefully examining the dried blood and scabbing. “Is that what’s wrong with ya?”

     Daryl leaned his nose and pushed against Rick’s hand.

     Rick let his foot down carefully and stood. “I’ll go talk to Hershel and see if he’d come out here. You just stay here, alright? I’ll be back.”

     The man stood and walked away, casting several backwards glances to the wolf.

     Daryl huffed to himself and flopped down in the dirt. That hadn’t gone too well, but he at least got the man’s attention.

     Daryl settled his head on his out stretched paws, the sun warm, though not unbearable yet, like it would be in the afternoon. He watched the figure of Rick climb the porch steps of the farm house and disappear inside. He blew air forcefully out of his nose in impatience and waited.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here's the third chapter! I will post a picture at the beginning so that you can kind of reference what I mean for wolf!Daryl to look like. It's not exact, but it's close enough! :)

 

     The pleasant heat on Daryl’s back woke him. His eyes blinked open and he realized he had dozed off. He raised his head and gave a big yawn, tongue unfurling from his mouth. He stood and stretched, bending his front down and leaning back on his hind legs. He turned back to watch the farmhouse again. Rick still hadn’t returned, even though he had said he’d be. Daryl sat and cocked his head towards the house, listening for anything that might have been happening. He swung his head to look at the RV and noticed the figure of Dale on the top, ever keeping watch. 

     Movement came from the corner of his eye. He looked and saw a squirrel moving along the ground, coming closer to his position. He slowly went down and made himself as invisible and still as possible. The poor tree animal didn’t have a chance when it wandered into Daryl’s radius.

     In a flash, Daryl snapped the small vermin into his jaws and quickly killed it.

     His eyes widened and he dropped the squirrel, backing away from it. _I just killed that thing by chewing on it._ He then came to another nasty realization. _That thing was in my mouth!_

Daryl stared at the carcass in disgust and walked away from it. He winced at the sharp pain in his leg. He looked down at his leg to find the bite wound trickling blood. He hobbled a few steps, and then flopped down.

     He swung his head to watch the house again. He was getting bored of waiting. He looked at the rope tethered to the pole. He then took up the length that fell from his neck and began gnawing on it. That texture scraped the inside of his mouth terribly. He spit the rope back out and growled.

     The warm wind ruffled through his fur and suddenly, his nose twitched. That was Rick’s scent! He raised his head and saw the deputy making his way to the shed, Hershel Greene beside him, carrying a bag. As they got nearer, he stood to greet them, not putting pressure on his right leg.

     “Here he is,” Rick said, walking up. “See, isn’t his coloring strange?”

     Hershel was watching the wolf warily, Daryl returning the expression.

     “He must be a hybrid,” Hershel said, eyes studying the wolf’s frame.

     Daryl narrowed his eyes and cocked his head.

     “A what?” Rick asked in confusion. “Like, he’s not fully a wolf or something?”

     “He’s not a full-blooded wolf, that’s correct. See his eyes?” Hershel asked, gesturing at Daryl. “Adult wolves don’t have blue eyes like that. Some of his markings suggest there’s a little husky or maybe malamute in him, but I’m not sure. Beautiful creature, really,” Hershel added, more to himself. His eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t mean he can stay here scaring all my livestock. What was that hunter of yours thinking, bringing a wild animal like this to my home?”

     Daryl’s ears laid back at this, his upper lip twitching into a scowl.

     “We don’t exactly know,” Rick said, brows creasing together. “Nobody has seen him all morning.”

     Hershel huffed. “Well, when he gets back, make sure he gets a talkin’ too.” He turned his attention back to Daryl. “Now, you said he was hurt?”

     Rick nodded and approached Daryl. “His right leg,” he said, crouching down next to the wolf.

     “He’s letting you approach him like that?” Hershel wondered.

     Rick nodded and looked back up at the vet. “Yeah, it’s so strange. When Shane and I went to Daryl’s tent to get him out, he made a break for it. I ended up getting the rope around him, and he turned on me.” Rick scratched his head. “I full expected him to attack, but instead, he just laid down, all calm like.”

     Hershel frowned. “That’s unusual behavior indeed. It means he’s probably been around humans before.”

     “Well, he did react terribly when Shane tried to approach him.” Rick turned back to Daryl.

     Hershel chuckled. “I don’t blame him.” He slowly walked up to the wolf and crouched down, setting his bag on the ground.

     Daryl flattened his ears again and retreated back. He didn’t want the old man that close to him.

     Hershel gave Rick a skeptical look and Rick called to the wolf.

     “Hey, we’re trying to help,” he held his hand out to Daryl, who just stared at it.

     “I will not treat him unless I know he won’t bite me,” Hershel said. “I’m not risking my fingers uselessly to a wild animal.”

     Daryl snarled at the old man.

     Hershel undid his bag and pulled out a leather strappy thing. He handed it over to Rick. “You said he let you touch him? Get that over his snout for me.”

     Rick sighed and took the thing from Hershel.

     Daryl suddenly realized what the thing was and gave a low growl, backing up until the rope wouldn’t let him. He didn’t want to bite Rick, but there was no way in hell he was lettin’ himself get muzzled. He snapped at Rick’s hands as he got closer. Rick pulled back.

     “Come on now,” he chided softly. “Just let me do this. We’ll get you all fixed up and you’ll be rid of it in no time.”

     Daryl bared his teeth again, but thought through his predicament. He needed Rick’s favor. The old man would just wrap his leg and be gone. Hating himself, he let his lips fall over his teeth and slowly sank down.

     Rick exchanged a look with Hershel, who raised his eyebrows. Rick approached the wolf again and knelt down, hand hovering close to Daryl’s head. As if experimenting, he placed his hand down on the wolf. When Daryl didn’t move, Rick smiled and pet his head. Daryl cringed in humiliation.

     Rick moved the muzzle towards his face, and Daryl watched dreadfully as the thing came closer. Rick quickly slid it over his nose and fixed the straps behind his head. Daryl immediately felt too constricted and jerked out of Rick’s touch. He snorted and tried to growl, but couldn’t get his mouth open wide enough to make the right sound. Daryl pawed pathetically at the thing, trying to slide it back off. _Worst. Idea. Ever._ He decided.

     A hand slid under the rope around his neck and tugged it.

     Daryl glared at Rick, but begrudgingly complied to be led to Hershel.

     The vet held up both hands for Daryl to see and lowered to Daryl’s injured leg. A weight settled at his side and once again, Rick moved his hand around the impromptu choker, his other arm going around the wolf’s back and shoulders.

     Daryl grumbled at being so contained, but allowed the contact.

     Hershel lifted the leg and studied it. After a moment, he made a comment. “This is a bite wound. From another dog or wolf I’d say. It doesn’t look to be bad at all,” The vet reached back into his bag and pulled out paper rags and began blotting at the wound.

     At the initial sting, Daryl growled and tried to pull his foot. The vet had a strong grip though, and pulled the limb back to him.

     “Shhh,” Rick soothed into the wolf’s ear, working his hand through the fur on his shoulder.

     “Keep him still, this is peroxide,” Hershel brought a small bottle out and positioned it over the outstretched leg.

     The arm around Daryl tightened, but Daryl was determined not to move this time.

     As the liquid burned over his leg, Daryl tensed, but didn’t pull back. A low whine cut through his throat at the pain. A hand clasped the side of his head and ran over his ear. The hypersensitive flesh there tingled pleasantly at the gentle touch. Daryl’s rational mind snapped back. _Man, you’re touchin’ my freakin’ ear!_ He pulled his head away from the hand.

     Hershel continued his ministrations and wrapped a sterile bandage around the leg. He let the limb down gently, patted the wolf’s head and gathered his things back in his bag. He stood and stepped back a ways, nodding to Rick.

     The hands went around his head again and Daryl could feel the straps of the god-awful muzzle being worked. As the thing slipped off his snout, he opened and closed his mouth several times, and licked his lips.

     Taking the device, Hershel said, “Whenever that young man turns up, tell him to either get rid of it or keep it away from my farm. I won’t have him getting into the chicken coop or stirring up my other animals.” He gave a stern glance between Rick and the wolf before turning back to head to his house.

     Rick was still beside him, one hand massaging the fur on his back. Daryl gave a huff and pulled away.

     Rick chuckled. “You are an odd one,” he said. He looked up at the sky and ran the back of his hand over his forehead. “It’s gettin’ hot out here.” He met Daryl’s gaze again. “Best get you some water I guess.”

     The man pushed himself up and walked to the shed door. He opened it up and walked in, Daryl trotting at his heels. The inside of the small building was stifling.

     Rick shuffled around a few items on the cluttered shelf before picking out a pail. He smiled at the wolf and gave his head a passing scratch as he exited the shack.

     Daryl snorted, but continued following the deputy. He had to stop at the end of the rope and watched as Rick went over to the water spout and give it as few pumps and caught the falling water in the pail. He walked back over to Daryl and crouched down, setting the bucket in front of the wolf.

     Daryl looked into it and realized how scratchy his throat was feeling. He dipped his face down and awkwardly lapped up some of the liquid. It saturated his throat and quenched his thirst. He cast a grateful look to Rick, huffed and sat, not sure on what to do.

     Rick was studying him intently. He reached forward with his hand and rested his knuckles against his cheek, rubbing the fur.

     Daryl watched him and let the contact happen.

     “Where did you come from?” Rick mused, eyebrows creasing in speculation.

     Daryl cocked his head at Rick. _Finally, we’re gettin’ somewhere_. He raised his paw at Rick and gave a soft bark.

     Rick shook his head and chuckled. “Damn, it’s like you understand what I am saying.”

     Daryl excitedly barked again, louder this time. _‘Bout damn time!_

     Rick’s smiled, “Maybe you’re not so wild after all then?”

     “Rick! Hey, Rick!” It was Andrea’s voice. The man and wolf turned at her call. Both Andrea and Shane were headed their way.

     Rick stood and walked to meet them.

     _No, damn it!_ Daryl followed until he came to the end of the rope, tugging at it irritably.

     Andrea glanced at him and turned to Rick. “I’m supposin’ that belongs to Daryl?”

     Rick nodded. “Yeah, ain’t he somethin’?”

     Andrea frowned. “Sure, but is he safe to be around? I saw you petting him, but Shane said he was downright vicious.”

     Shane put his hands on his hips, “Yeah, how are you gettin’ so close to him like that?”

     Rick shrugged and looked back at Daryl. “I have no idea. He seems to be a real intelligent animal, and he lets me approach and touch him. Hershel guesses he’s been around humans before.”

     Andrea walked past the men and up to the wolf.

     Daryl backed up a step when she approached, watching her warily, but not showing teeth.

     She crouched down a few feet from him. “Come here, boy,” she called to him, holding her hand out. Daryl curled his lip, but went to her.

     “Hey there, good boy!” she praised and reached to touch him.

     Daryl ducked his head and growled softly at her. _I ain’t doin’ no trick show._

     Andrea got the message and pulled back. Glancing back at the men who were watching, she shrugged. “He doesn’t seem too wild,” she said, standing, “He’s at least interacting with us.”

     “That’s not how he was acting at all earlier,” Shane protested. “The bastard was murderous!” He strode over to the wolf.

     Daryl immediately went low to the ground, not retreating, but showing plenty of teeth to the ex-cop.

     Shane turned back. “Ya see!” He looked at Daryl, who pinned his ears back.

     Rick stepped forward and bent down next to Shane. Daryl calmed a bit, but still threatened Shane. Rick chuckled. “He doesn’t seem to be too fond of ya,” he said.

     Shane snorted. “That’s an understatement. Why? I’ve seen him just as much as you have here! I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve this behavior!”

     _‘Cept by being your narcissistic asshole self._ Daryl snarled.

    “None of that now!” Rick scolded, reaching out and pushing firmly on Daryl’s snout.

     Daryl snorted in surprise and lifted his head to Rick. _The hell was that for?_ He huffed indignantly.

     “I swear, it’s like he understands what we say,” Rick said. “He’s not half so bad as I thought. And no, he’s certainly not completely wild.”

     Andrea looked contemplative.

     “Damn, if Dixon would just get his ass back here,” Shane snapped. “Where the hell did he go?”

     Rick sighed. “I don’t know. It’s not like him to leave without tellin’ anyone when he’ll at least be back.” He shook his head. “His stuff is all here, his weapons, his possessions, his motorcycle. He didn’t take off with the intent of leavin’. My guess is he’ll be back by evening, latest.”

     Andrea nodded. “Until then, there are a few chores we still have to take care of this afternoon. Hershel asked for any help we could give on mending a few gaps in the fences.”

     Rick nodded and stood up, Shane following suit. Rick cast a glance back at Daryl before following Andrea.

     Shane gave one last look down at the wolf.

     Daryl curled his lips and gave a warning growl.

     Shane scoffed and went on his way.

     Leaving Daryl alone to wait. Again. Daryl sighed heavily and sat down. _This is gettin’ real old._


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter four! :)

**Chapter Four**

     Rick wiped the sweat off his brow, glancing at the golden-orange sky. He set his shovel aside and leaned against the post he had just finished installing, taking a swig of the water from his canteen. Hershel’s youngest girl, Beth, was working next to him, lifting a wooden beam and fitting it into holes that were hollowed out in the posts.

     Rick had to give the girl credit. For as timid as she was, Beth was strong and didn’t shy away from the heavy lifting portion of the building project. On top of that, she had gotten on to Jimmy, Glenn and T-Dog several times, redirecting their posts or giving them tips on how to secure the fence pieces once they had been set in. Rick smiled. The girl was farm bred, through and through.

      His twelve-year-old son, Carl, had been working hard on the other side of Beth, not quite being able to lift a fence beam by himself, but trying to show off in front of the sixteen-year-old girl. Rick smiled as his son jogged up to him.

     “Are we almost done, Dad?” he asked, “I’m hungry!”

      As if on cue, a cow bell sounded and the workers glanced towards the farm house.

     “Patricia’s got dinner ready,” Beth announced, pulling off her dirty gloves and leaning down to pick up her shovel. Jimmy grabbed up the tools he’d been using and hurried to the blonde girl’s side, speaking in hushed tones to her and making her laugh.

     Carl looked a little downcast at the two, and Rick patted his son’s shoulder.

     “Looks like you called it pretty good there,” he said. “Let’s get back to your mom and get cleaned up for dinner.”

     Andrea fell into step next to Rick and Carl as they headed to wash up.

     “We almost got the whole field lined,” she said. “And by adding another couple feet on top, by the time we finish, any Walker is going to have a hell of a time getting over it.”

     Rick nodded in agreement.

     “Great work today guys,” T-Dog said as he and Glenn walked up to join them, carrying various shovels and post-hole diggers. “I’m so hungry now, though, I could eat one of those cows whole!” He lifted his hand in the direction of a group of cattle grazing in the far distance.

     “Then you wouldn’t be much better than a Walker, would you?” Glenn quipped, grinning.

     T-Dog looked confused for a moment as the others laughed and then shouldered Glenn. “I would cook it first, man!” he exclaimed. “Grilled up medium rare with a barbeque marinade!” He sighed in contentment while the others chuckled.

     “I could go for that,” Rick said.

     Faraway looks crossed their faces as they all started dreaming about the finer foods they’d missed since the virus outbreak.

     “I miss pizza, Dad,” Carl said, looking up at Rick.

     They all laughed.

     “Me too, Carl,” Glenn said. “I would love to get my old job back. Delivering pies beats outrunning Walkers any day.”

     “Pies?” an inquisitive look crossed Carl’s face. “I was talking abou—“

     “Pizza pies!” Glenn told him. “A pie is just another word for a pizza.”

     Carl frowned in thought. “How does that make sense?” he asked Glenn.

     Glenn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, I guess the way it’s shaped, and the slices are cut triangular, like a pie.” He explained.

     Carl still looked perplexed, and looked beseechingly at his dad.

     Rick laughed and shrugged. “Beats me, kid,” He said, ruffling Carl’s hair and draping his arm around his shoulder.

     Among the laughter and camaraderie, Rick’s gaze passed across the field to the shed. There, sitting stoically at the end of his tie, was the wolf. The animal was watching them, Rick noted. The stare that unnerved him so much, following their progress to the house. Rick thought there was something entirely odd about the not-so-wild animal; it’s piercing blue eyes far too intelligent to just be a dumb beast.

     “I think it’s so cool that Daryl has a wolf!” Carl exclaimed next to him, obviously noticing where his Dad’s attention had shifted. “Do you think I could go see it, Dad, please?”

     Rick smiled at his son. “We’ll see. I was gonna take him somethin’ to eat later, we’ll ask your mom if you can tag along.”

     “Awww,” Carl complained. “But Mom always says ‘no’ to this kind of stuff. Can’t we just keep it a secret?” He turned hopeful bright eyes to Rick.

     Rick chuckled and patted his son’s shoulder as they ascended the front porch steps. “I don’t think that’d be wise.” He said, opening the door for the group that followed behind him.

     He found Lori in the kitchen with Carol and Patricia, dishing platefuls of food. He said his greetings and was promptly shooed to the bathroom to wash up.

     As the group of people sat down to eat, Carol was the one to bring up the absence of Daryl.

     “He can’t have just gone off!” she exclaimed. “He took nothing with him!”

     “Daryl can survive on his own for a while,” Rick reasoned. “Why he would leave without telling us and not even taking his crossbow is beyond me. We can go lookin’ tomorrow if he doesn’t come back in tonight.”

     Carol looked upset, but nodded.

     The topic turned to the fence that was under construction and Beth told her father about the work they had done. Hershel’s lips quirked up into a smile at his youngest daughter. He was proud of her, Rick could tell.

     As dinner came to a close, everyone parted ways, some going to start their shift in watch duty, and some helping clear the table. As he left the kitchen, Rick caught sight of Hershel.

     “Hey, Hershel?” he called.

     The old man turned at the sound of his name and found Rick’s eyes.

     Rick walked over to him. “I was wonderin’ if you had any kind of dog food. I know I haven’t seen any dogs around here, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

     Hershel eyed Rick for a moment before nodding. “If you insist on feedin’ that wolf, I think we might have a left over container of dry food out in the stables. That’s where ol’ Bo stayed.” Hershel smiled sadly. “I was fond of that dog. Border collie he was. Died back in the spring.”

     Rick nodded sympathetically. “That’s too bad,” he said.

     Hershel shrugged and snapped out of his reminiscing. “He was fifteen or sixteen years old, it was just his time. I think his old bowls are still out there too if you want to make use of them.”

     Rick thanked the man and went to find Lori and Carl. Like he had guessed, Lori exclaimed she didn’t want Carl going anywhere near the wolf. Carl sighed, looking dejected. Rick patted his head.

     “Sorry, Carl,” he said. “Maybe if he sticks around a bit, you’ll get to see him up close.”

     Carl found little comfort in the thought and went about his business.

     Rick made his way to the stables, the dusky evening sky not giving very much light to the building. Rick shuffled around the storage shelves a bit before finding a set of matching dog bowls. He looked to the floor beneath the shelf and located a large tub, about half way full of dry kibble. He scooped one of the bowls into the food and snapped the top shut again.

     He exited the stables and started across the field to the shed. The wolf had been lying down, but turned his head and stood when he heard Rick approach. He trotted to the end of his line, his tail giving a minute wag, waiting. Rick smiled as he walked up to the animal, crouching down, and reaching for the wolf’s ear with his free hand. The wild dog intercepted his hand with his paw, shoving at it and giving a grumble. There was no malice behind the growl, simply irritation.

     Rick chuckled. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, standing and giving the furry head a passing stroke as he made his way to the shed. He leaned down and set the food on the ground and turned to the wolf, which had followed him and was watching curiously.

     “There ya go,” Rick told him. “You haven’t eaten all day, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

     He stared at the bowl Rick had put down, and then back at Rick, blue eyes boring into his.

     Rick frowned. “It’s food,” he said, picking out a few pieces of the kibble and tossing them at the wolf’s feet.

     The wolf snuffed at the dry pieces in the dirt and stared back at Rick.

     “What, not fancy enough for you or somethin’?” Rick chided, pushing the bowl towards the animal. “Get over it, it’s all we got for now.”

     The wolf pulled his lip, and looked down at the bowl. He lowered his head and gave the food a few sniffs before carefully taking a couple of the pieces. He crunched down on them and froze. Immediately, he spit the food back to the ground, tongue working in and out of his mouth, as if trying to get rid of the taste. He growled lightly and stared at Rick.

     Rick held his hands up. “It’s all you’re gettin’, sorry.” He was thoroughly amused by the wolf’s behavior.

     The wolf began to pace in front of him, giving several growls and guffs before sitting back down in front of Rick and placing a paw on his knee, giving it a push.

     Rick reached out and ran his hand through the thick fur on the animal’s neck. “What d’ya want me to do about that, hmm?” he asked, smiling.

     The wolf barked and Rick laughed. The animal continued making noises, as if trying to carry on the conversation.

     “Do you actually think I can understand you?” Rick asked, still rubbing the soft neck.

     The wolf scratched at his knee and gave a low hum.

     Rick thought for a moment, recalling his previous encounters with the animal. Feeling incredibly stupid, he said, “Bark once if you understand what I am sayin’.”

     The wolf cocked his head to the side, blue eyes gazing quizzically at him.

     Rick sighed.

     A split second later, the wolf barked.

     Rick froze, staring at the animal. “Alright now, bark twice.”

     The wolf huffed, but gave two barks.

     Rick was floored by the animal’s response. Continuing his test, he held out his hand. “Shake,” he commanded.

     The wolf actually snarled, intelligent eyes narrowing. Rick just waited, hand outstretched.

     A dark paw dropped into his hand.

     Several questions ran through Rick’s head. _Who did the wolf belong to? Why did Daryl have a trained wolf? Where did Daryl even get it?_ He remembered Daryl’s bite wound. Perhaps this was that wolf? Was the wolf the reason Daryl had left?

     He was drawn out of his thoughts by the cold, wet nose pushing against the hand that was closed around the paw. White fangs nipped gently at his fingers. He released the limb and the wolf sat down, watching Rick. The man decided to push his luck.

     “Lay down,” Rick tried.

     The wolf threw his head to the side and gave something resembling a snort, and lowered himself to the ground.

     “Unbelievable,” Rick muttered to himself. “Well, you’re not wild, that’s for sure, you were somebody’s pet.”

     The wolf groaned and dropped his chin to the ground, a paw going up and resting over his muzzle.

     Rick looked up at the darkened sky and stood.

     “I’d better get back to the camp,” he said, pushing on his knees to stand up. The wolf jumped up as well, and as Rick started to walk away, he gave a whine and dove for Rick’s ankles, grabbing a pant leg.

     “Hey!” Rick exclaimed. The wolf just lay at his feet, jaw clamped shut over the hem of the man’s pants. Rick sighed and crouched. “You seem to have a bit of separation anxiety, don’t you?” he reached down and scratched behind the wolf’s ear. The animal folded his ears back, but didn’t budge. “Look,” Rick said, “You can’t come with me. I would tie you closer, but the others in the group, they don’t trust you.” Rick molded both his hands into the wolf’s fur, working them back and forth, and just holding eye contact with him for a minute.

     The wolf grumbled, released the pant leg, and settled his head onto his paws, eyes gazing sorrowfully back at Rick.

     “Sorry, boy, I’ll see about movin’ you tomorrow,” Rick stepped away from the wolf and started back to the group’s campsite, looking back several times at the still form. He sighed as he caught sight of Daryl’s tent up the hill a ways.

     _Where the hell is Dixon?_


	5. Chapter Five

 

     Daryl didn’t get a good night’s rest at all. Between every noise hitting his sensitive ears to just plain restlessness, he slept in short shifts. When he was awake, he would pace the length of his line, making sure nothing was out of the ordinary around the farm and camp.

     Daryl was asleep when the sky was brightening, and was gently woken by the rising sun. He blinked slowly and raised his head. He yawned and let his tongue fall out of his mouth, stretching his jowl wide. He lazily watched the goings-on of the morning around him, not moving from the spot he had curled up in. The birds were up, annoying him with their incessant chirping.

     His belly clenched as his stomach pleaded for something. He winced, his head swinging toward the direction of the still-full dog bowl Rick had brought by the evening before.

     _No way in hell I’m tryin’ that again._ He turned his lip up at it and looked away. The one bite he’d taken, it was completely bland and dry, nastily sticking to his taste buds even after he had spit the food back out. Something else caught his mind and he swung his head to the far corner of the shed, where he had killed that squirrel the previous day. The dead furry critter was still where he had left it. Eating the squirrel wasn’t the debate in his mind, it was the fact that he didn’t have hands to skin the animal with. Just his teeth. And that just seemed barbaric.

      _I’ve done worse._ He countered himself. _But I can wait a bit longer before resortin’ to that._

    He nosed his side as his stomach rumbled again, willing it to be still.

     He heard a door open and voices began to waft in his direction. He looked up at the farm house to see the Greene sisters walking to the chicken coop, baskets swinging in their hands, free arms looped together. Patricia was following them with another basket, wide brimmed hat shielding her from the rising summer sun. The woman went to her garden and began inspecting her vegetable plants.

     Daryl settled his chin between his paws, not ready to get up yet.

     _What’s the use? They won’t let ya off the damn rope anyway._ He huffed, dirt scattering at his breath. He was frustrated with Rick, who was still hadn’t realized what was going on. He couldn’t blame the man; the fact that Daryl was in a wolf’s body was outrageous and unbelievable. At least he had managed to gain Rick’s trust, even if the man had humiliated him with cheap tricks.

     Daryl turned his gaze to watch the campsite. T-Dog was lounging on top of the RV, keeping watch on the distant fields and woods.

      He rose, his russet fur rippling as his lean body stretched out the cramps of the night. He found himself shaking his head, the motion traveling through his shoulders and down his back, ending with his tail. That seemed to loosen his sleep-crunched muscles.

     Daryl nudged his right leg. The soreness had dulled significantly since Greene had treated it. He paced his line a bit before sitting and watching the farm house as the sisters tended to the animals, singing together as they went. He was bored out of his mind with nothing to do.

     Daryl’s ear swiveled back at the sound of footsteps. He turned his head to see Rick’s boy, Carl, of all people, heading his way. The kid kept glancing behind him, as if expecting someone.

     _The boy’s not supposed to come see me._ Daryl realized. He smirked and turned his body to face Carl, sitting down and watching him intently.

     Carl stopped several feet away from him, crouching down.

     “Hey, boy!” Carl called softly, clicking his tongue.

     Daryl just kept watching him.

     “Hey, I gotcha something,” Carl said, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a napkin, glancing behind his shoulder again.

     Daryl’s ears went up in curiosity as Carl unfolded the napkin to reveal a few handfuls of scrambled eggs. The wolf’s nose twitched and he licked his lips.

     “Come on,” Carl said, “Come get it!”

     _Damn kid’s tryin’ to bribe me!_ Daryl narrowed his eyes at the Carl, but got up and slowly made his way to him.

     Carl laid the napkin out in front of his feet, waiting for the wolf.

      Stretching his head forward as far as his neck would allow, Daryl reached for the eggs. He gave Carl on last glance before quickly devouring the food.

      He flinched as small hands patted his head, but didn’t give Carl much notice as he downed the last of the eggs and sat back, hoping the kid had brought something else.

     Carl laughed and scratched his ears.

     Daryl leaned away from the fingers, but the hand followed him. He gave an exasperated huff.

     _C’mon, kid, what else ya got?_ Daryl sniffed the air around him, trying to detect any other scraps Carl might have been hiding from him.

     “Dad’s right! You are friendly!” Carl said excitedly.

      Daryl snorted and gave a little growl. _Boy, if you think this is being friendly, you’ve got some screwed notions in that head of yours._

He grudgingly allowed Carl to rub his head, recognizing the light in the boy’s eyes. It was the same one he had when he was nine or ten years old himself. Merle had brought home a scraggly stray dog for his birthday. The mutt was half mad and missing an ear, but Daryl found a best friend in the animal.

      Maybe that’s what Carl was looking for as well.

      “CARL!”

     Both boy and wolf winced at the shout.

      “Carl, get away from that animal!” Lori’s voice carried loudly over to the pair.

     “Oh boy,” Carl muttered and quickly said, “I’ll try and be back later, don’t worry!”

     Carl hurriedly got up and faced his mother.

     Daryl looked around Carl’s legs and saw Lori storming over to them.

     At her posture, Daryl stood and backed, the fur on his shoulders rising slightly.

     “Mom, he’s not—” the boy began.

     “What did I tell you?” Lori exclaimed, finally getting over to them. “Get back this instant, young man!” Fearful eyes darted and met Daryl’s.

      Daryl gazed back at the woman, staying as still as he could, trying not to seem like a threat to her.

     Lori wrapped an arm around her son’s shoulders and pulled him back towards the group’s camp site, Carl protesting the whole way.

      When they were far enough away, Daryl huffed and flopped down again.

     _Well, ya got some eggs outta that at least._ He told himself. He was still hungry, but it seemed the eggs had sated a small bit of his stomach.

     With the sun shining on him, Daryl found his mind becoming fuzzy, drifting in the pleasant warmth.

      He laid there for a while, half aware of the activity of the people. He knew they were working on reinforcing the weaker fence that had been falling apart. The new structure was turning out great. The group needed a sturdier barrier between them and the dead. Whether the Greene family fully realized the intentions of the Atlanta crew, but either way, the farm was getting a new fence and the group was gaining better protection.

     He looked back at the camp and saw several of them grouped together. Shane and Rick were talking it looked like, Carol cutting in every once in a while. Shane finally raised his hands, in frustration it seemed, and went back into his tent. He emerged a second later, gun in hand. He motioned to T-Dog, Carol and Glenn, heading towards the woods. Rick nodded to the three as they left after Shane.

     Daryl watched as they entered the woods. His ear perked forward. They were probably going out searching. For him. When he was sitting right under their noses.

     He rose and paced, growling in helplessness, pulling at the rope. He huffed gruffly and collapsed in the dirt again, knowing all he could do was wait.

     The morning passed in absolute boredom. Daryl bided his time by napping, pacing, and occasionally hiking his hind leg to relieve himself against the shed, an action which somewhat amused him. As he was watching the group work, one of them, his ears picked out Maggie Greene’s southern draw, called for a lunch break. As the people dispersed and went separate ways, Daryl caught movement at the forest edge. His eyes snapped to the spot, but he relaxed when it was only T-Dog, Glenn, Carol and Shane coming through.

     Rick and Andrea met them and a conversation entailed. Daryl strained his ears, but didn’t catch much. Enough to know that they had indeed been out looking for him and came back empty handed. Shane went off towards his tent while Glenn and Carol wandered toward the farm house. Rick stayed behind talking with T-Dog and Andrea. Several gestures were made in his direction, and then the troupe began to make their way to the shed.

     T-Dog whistled when they had reached the wolf. “Damn, didn’t even know Georgia had wolves! I’ve never seen one in person before.” He looked impressed as he walked along Daryl’s line of sight.

     Daryl drew himself up and raised his head and chest as he was being scrutinized.

     “Doesn’t he have such pretty eyes?” Andrea commented, catching Daryl’s attention. “What a beautiful blue! They’re like crystal.” She knelt near him.

     Daryl took a step away from her and looked over to Rick, who was watching him as well.

     “You said he responded to any command you gave him?” T-Dog asked from behind him.

     Daryl swiveled around to look at the man, realizing he had stepped out of his line of vision. He tensed, not liking where the conversation was going.

     “Yeah, it was fascinating really!” Rick said, squatting down. “Like I said before, he’s flipped out a couple different times at being left alone. I wanted to do a little trial run and see how he’d react being around everyone else. I had a talk with Hershel, and finally got him to give him a chance.” He held out his hand to the wolf. “C’mere, boy,” he called, a confident gleam in his eye.

     _God dammit, Dixon, you’ve out done yourself this time._ Daryl flattened his ears and watched Rick. _I ain’t no show pony, Grimes!_ Snips of a growl made its way through his throat.

     “Hey now, don’t start this again,” Rick sighed. He leaned forward a bit more. “Come on, please?”

     Daryl blew out a breath and moved over to him.

     Rick carded his fingers through the fur on Daryl’s neck and scratched his head, looking up. “See?” he said. “He listens.”

     T-Dog chuckled. “He sure looked like he wasn’t gonna there for a second.” The black man walked over and crouched beside Daryl, hand going out.

     Daryl twisted away from the hand, a noise of discomfort breaking from his throat. He didn’t necessarily have any qualms with the man anymore, but he really didn’t want to be touched if he didn’t have to be.

     T-Dog seemed disappointed, but backed off. “I get it man, new face, sorry there!” he talked down to the wolf.

     “Give him time,” Rick said, hand finding the wolf’s shoulder, rubbing it. “He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure.” He chuckled suddenly. “Lori said she caught Carl out here feeding him this mornin’, maybe that’s all you need.”

     Daryl curled his lip. _Think I can be bought that easily?_ His empty bowels answered for him. Yeah, maybe he could be.

     Andrea stood. “Where do you plan on moving him to?” she asked.

     Rick straightened. “I was thinkin’ about stakin’ him next to the big oak over there.” He gestured to one of the large trees on the perimeter of the group of tents. “It’s close enough of be around us, but far enough away so he’s not underfoot and can adjust without being overwhelmed.”

     Rick walked to the post where the rope end was fastened and Daryl nearly jumped in excitement.

     “He’s happy about that,” T-Dog laughed.

     Daryl then realized his tail was swishing back and forth. He abruptly lowered it. He watched as Rick unfastened the knot and wound the excess rope up around his hand. He also picked up the dog food bowl.

     “He hasn’t eaten any of this,” he said, frowning at Daryl.

     _Well, duh I haven’t. Dipshit._ Daryl rolled his eyes and huffed.

     Andrea took initiative from Rick and picked up the almost empty water pail.

     They began to move away from the god-forsaken shed and towards the tents and RV. Andrea paused at the water well and refilled the bucket.

     Daryl began to quicken his pace as they neared the tents.

     If he could get to his own stuff, maybe he could find a way to relay the fact that he was the wolf to the others.

     He had his own tent in sight and when Rick tried to pull him off course, he pulled back.

     Rick looked back at the wolf. “Well, come on,” he said.

     Daryl sat down stubbornly and leaned away from the rope.

     “Where are you going?” Rick asked, glancing up in the general direction Daryl was trying to drag him back to. “You goin’ back to Daryl’s tent? He’s still not there,” he tried to reason.

     _Course I’m here._ Daryl growled at Rick. _You just can’t seem to understand that._

     “Come on, you’re staying over here until we find him,” Rick frowned at Daryl’s tent and tugged firmly on the rope.

     Daryl didn’t move, and the noose cut into his larynx, blocking his air flow. He gave a choked grunt and looked up at Rick, getting to his feet and pulling against the rope. _Just take me over there dammit!_

     Rick gave another tug and won out as the need for oxygen forced Daryl forward. He panted a couple times and glared at Rick as they began walking again.

     Approaching the tree Rick had mentioned, Daryl noticed a long chain encircling the thick trunk. The man stooped and picked up a much shorter chain that lay at the base of the tree, folding the middle and passing it through the loop at the end of it.

     Rick slipped the metal choker around the wolf’s neck and fastened the end of the chain around the tree to it. He then undid the rope around Daryl’s neck and gave him a pat on the head.

     Daryl growled and brushed passed the man, circling around the tree out of his sight and flopping down, chain rattling, the sound mocking him.

      “You mad at me now?” Rick asked, crouching beside the wolf’s head, hand running down the dark back.

     Daryl turned his head further away from the man, snorting.

     “Alright, fine, be that way,” Rick’s voice had an amused edge to it, making Daryl angrier. He didn’t respond to the man, and heard Rick stand and walk away. Even then he didn’t raise his head.

     He was agitated, mostly with himself and his inability to communicate properly with the group. He had no idea what going on, why he was stuck in this body. How would he change back?

     Or would he even change back?

     That thought terrified him the most.


	6. Chapter 6

               The afternoon crawled by so agonizingly slow when all Daryl had to do was lie at the end of the damned chain and watch the comings and goings of the group. The highlight of the last three hours had been getting up and moving over a few feet as the sun travelled across the sky and took away his source of shade. There wasn’t much he wanted to do in the heat of the day though. He lay and panted through the almost unbearable temperature. He recalled how dogs usually dug holes to keep themselves cool during the summertime, but it was too hot to even get up and do that. He cursed the thick coat of fur that covered his entire body, as it felt like he was laying right next to a furnace. He had to get up a couple times to drink from the pail that’d been left near the base of the tree, and then another time after that to relieve himself as the water travelled straight through his body.

     Carol and Lori busied themselves hanging various clothing articles to stiffen dry in the blazing heat while Carl skulked nearby, often casting the wolf interested looks. Andrea and Dale sat atop the RV, the blonde having enough sense to borrow a hat from someone as she wasn’t sitting under the shade of the umbrella like the old man was. Glenn and Maggie definitely had something going on, he observed, as they kept passing nervous looks to one another when they were nearby. The wolf snorted. He would put all in to bet Glenn had gotten some action with the farmer’s daughter.

     _Just listen to yourself, Dixon. Passing the time like some busy-body home wife._ His stomach gave a pitiful gurgle and the wolf let out a sigh. Judging by the position of the sun, it was somewhere around 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Meaning 48 hours had nearly passed since he last had a decent meal. Carl had brought him real food, but he knew he couldn’t rely on the kid to keep bringing him scraps. Slowly, his gaze ended up on the bowl of dry dog food. _Get a grip of yourself, Dixon. You’ve had to eat worse before. Much worse._ He grumbled and pushed himself to his feet, walking defeated to the bowl. He eyed the dog food for a moment before he steeled himself and shoved his nose into the kibble, taking a mouthful. Crunching quickly and not giving himself time for the taste to settle in, he scooped up another helping. He quickly adjusted to chewing with his new set of teeth, pulverizing the dry, bland-as-hell pieces.

     By the time he was finishing the bowl, his stomach felt much better. He backed away from the nearly-empty dish and licked his lips, his mouth and throat dry. He moved to his water pail and took a lengthy drink, washing away the stale taste. _How the hell can dogs stand eating that shit their whole lives?_ He wondered to himself. Actually feeling content, he wandered to the shade of the tree trunk and more-or-less plopped down. With a huff he lay his head between his paws. He was bored, hating that he was confined to just a few feet of space.

     The sun crawled across the sky, finally approaching the evening before he had company. Surprisingly it was the Greene sisters.

     “Daddy was right, look how pretty he is!” the doe-eyed blonde one squealed. She dropped to her knees at the end of Daryl’s tether, watching him with her wide, trusting gaze. The other girl, Maggie he remembered her being called, knelt next to the younger one. Daryl wracked his brain, but he honestly couldn’t come up with her name. That didn’t bother him a bit though. He was grateful to the farmer’s family for providing a safer place for his group, but he still didn’t like so many people around.

     “He’s ignoring us,” Blondie said, her Georgia accent and blue eyes portraying her disappointment.

     “Hey!” Maggie called to him, clicking her tongue.

     Daryl raised his head and turned to stare at them. They didn’t favor each other, Maggie with stick brown hair and green eyes, Blondie with yellow curls and blue eyes. It wasn’t like with Andrea and Amy, who anybody could tell were sisters.

     He watched the farmer’s daughters for a moment, not wanting their attention and, in Blondie’s case, affection. She was trying hard to draw him over, speaking soft and sweet, patting her knees. When she began scooting forward, Maggie put a restraining hand on her arm.

     “Remember what daddy said, not too close. Not unless he comes to us.” She watched the wolf warily.

     Blondie’s face scrunched up real funny like, and she returned to her original position.

     Daryl blew out a breath and turned away from them, not laying his head back down and keeping them in his peripheral vision.

     “Aww, look, he ate all his food!” Blondie said, moving to the empty dish. “You must’ve been hungry!” Her voice was such pure doting sweetness, it sickened Daryl.

     _Yeah, Girlie, I was, and I’ll be damned if I have to resort to eating that shit again._

     “I’ll go get you some more!” Was her reply.

     _Damn it._

     Daryl turned and watched her snatch up the bowl and dash off, long legs flying. He flicked his gaze to Maggie, who wore a more bearable expression. Not one of unicorns and rainbows at least.

     The girl sighed and settled in the dirt, cross-legged. She leaned her chin on her palm, her elbow resting on her knee.

     “Sorry you lost your family,” she said.

     Confused, Daryl swung his head to watch her.

     “Daddy says you’re too tame to not have belonged to someone around here. I wonder if your people were on their way out. Did you get stuck on the highway? I heard a lot of people died out there.” Her tone was sad.

     Daryl cocked his head at her. He could understand the idea, family getting abandoned on the highway, the dog running off to escape the dead. It was the most probable theory. Much more probable than a man somehow turning into a damned wolf anyway. Not even a full blooded wolf at that. A stinkin’ half-breed.

     “I lost family too,” she continued, a far off look glazing her eyes. “Daddy, he doesn’t think they’re gone forever. We just have to wait out whatever this plague is and they’ll get better once we get the cure.”

     Alarm bells went off in Daryl’s head. _What the hell are you talkin’ about, girl?_ He gave a low growl, not comfortable with what he was hearing. _If you lost family to the dead, then they’re dead. Period. They’re not getting some damn cure. How the hell would you plan on getting it to them anyway? If you didn’t shoot them in the brains, and they’re still wandering around somewhere, how the hell are you planning on finding them again?_ He caught himself, realizing he was carrying on a one-sided conversation. The girl couldn’t understand his language, though she was watching him curiously.

     Her lips quirked into a smile. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

     _No._

     “That’s sweet,” she said. “It actually sounded like you were trying to talk to me for a minute.”

     The wolf dog sighed and laid his head to his paws. She was just as thick-headed as Rick was. At least he had half-hope with the deputy, having gained his interest.

     Blondie came skidding back up, bowl in hand. “Here you go, boy! I got you some dinner!” She folded her legs under her, placing the dish down and inching it towards him.

     _The hell you did._

     “Can we be friends now?” the innocent southern voice pestered on.

     Daryl rose to his feet, turning to fully meet the girls. _Why does everyone think they can just buy me off with food? Good lord, ya kids._ His nose caught scent and he lifted it in the air, his tail swishing once. Rick was around somewhere. Maybe he’d chase off the little vermin. He heard the familiar boot falls and craned his head to see the man coming his way.

     “Y’all girls be careful now,” he said, walking up. “He’s a bit unpredictable about who he’s around. I don’t want you gettin’ bit.”

     Maggie stood, Blondie following suit, brushing off her jeans. “You don’t have to worry about us, we know how to handle ourselves around animals,” Maggie said, looking at Rick.

     Daryl snorted at the ballsy comment. Farmer’s daughter could be bitchy, then.

     “Yeah, it kinda comes with the territory,” Blondie said, sweet as could be, making the condescending statement seem like a compliment.

     Rick chuckled, sold on the charming face. “I think I’ve figured that out,” he said, hand settling on his hip, stance relaxing. “At least, I’ve seen you ride,” he addressed Maggie. “You’re very good.”

     “Thanks,” Maggie returned, albeit dryly. “When you’re born and raised on a farm, it’s kind of unavoidable.” A hint of bitterness was underlain in her voice. “Look, we’ve got chores to finish before dinner. We’ll ring for y’all when it’s ready. Let’s go, Beth.”

     “Bye,” Blondie, Beth apparently, said, waving at Rick and sparing Daryl a final glance before following after her sister.

     Rick raised his hand in farewell to the girls and watched them go for a moment. Daryl was waiting to meet his gaze when the man finally turned his attention to him.

     “Well, you still mad at me?” Rick asked, coming right up to Daryl and crouching.

     _Yeah, I am._ Daryl curled his lip and flicked his ears back. _Ya need ta quit wastin’ your time tryin’ to find me. I am right here! Why can you not come up with that solution? Ya need to go out and be lookin’ for that little girl!_ He paused his tirade of yips and growls, glaring at the man.

     Rick shook his head. “I tell you what, you’re something else.” He reached out to touch the wolf, but Daryl dodged the hand, pacing his line. _You can’t keep me tied up here, Grimes, I ain’t an animal, not really._

     Rick sighed, and Daryl suddenly noticed the strain on his face. “Well, go ahead, be mad. Everybody else is, too.” He tightened his lips in frustration. “You know, I am trying _everything,_ ” he snapped.

     Daryl drew his ears back and shrunk down from the sudden anger in Rick’s voice. His tail began to curve low, between his hind legs as he retreated a couple steps from the man.

     Rick continued, pacing in front of the wolf. He kept his voice low, as not to be overheard, but the anger and tension was palpable. “I am making the hard decisions here, I know I can’t make everybody happy, but they’re decisions that _have_ to be made! And on top of everything my own _wife_ went behind my back and almost got rid of the baby she didn’t even _tell_ me about.”

      _The hell, man?_ Daryl cocked his head at that, his ears going up in surprise. _Lori’s pregnant?_ _Damn._

      “And with Sophia _and_ Daryl missing, I have to make the call. And honestly, there’s no contest.” Rick paused his tirade to cover his mouth with his hand, rubbing his chin. “I’d give anything to get Sophia back to her mother, but Daryl is just too damn valuable to lose. This group can’t afford a loss like that. We just can’t.”

     Daryl was thrown. He couldn’t believe what had just come out of the deputy’s mouth. His temper boiled up and he bent low to the ground, showing his teeth. He let out a menacing growl.

     _You listen here, Grimes. You do NOT give up on that little girl. Not for me. Not when I haven’t freakin’ left! I am RIGHT HERE! You get out there and you look for HER, not me! Even if it were my ass out there, I can take care of myself, I don’t need you! But Sophia does! You look for HER!_

     Rick had backed up several feet, a concerned light in his eyes, his hands raised. Daryl then realized he had been barking, loud and vicious, jaws snapping and fur bristling.

     He caught movement from the corner of his eye and glanced over in time to get nailed in the head. White burst in his vision and he yelped in pain, tumbling to the ground. After a couple seconds of shock, his sight cleared enough to see Shane, looking murderous and holding the shotgun he’d just clubbed the wolf dog with.

     The gun cracked ominously as Shane leveled it at Daryl. He glanced at Rick, gun staying steady. “You give the word and he’s dead.”

     Rick still looked taken off guard. He shook his head rapidly. “No! No, he’s fine. I was riled up, scared him. He felt threatened is all.” He looked at Shane warily, almost spitefully. “He’s fine.”

     Daryl kept his eyes on the gun, panic slowly bubbling in his chest. He hadn’t meant to go off on Rick, and now he was cornered, attached to a line with nowhere to run if Shane decided to shoot.

     Shane didn’t lower his weapon as he cast another glare at the wolf. “He sounded out of control, Rick, you know we can’t have that.”

     Rick put his hands out. “No, he’s fine. I told you, it was my fault! He’s ok, really. Look,” he turned to Daryl. “Sit,” he more asked than commanded, as if testing Daryl.

     Daryl knew what he had to do. He’d nearly ruined the bond he had with the people, and even though he had a bad relationship with Shane to begin with, he never meant to push it to this point. He realized he was fully dependent on Rick’s say. Nobody could understand him, should he try and reason.

     Instead of sitting, he laid down, chin on the ground, eyes imploring Rick’s. _Don’t let me end up dead here, Grimes._

     Rick walked slowly into the wolf’s radius, hands still raised in placation. “Co’mere,” he called gently, crouching.

     Daryl immediately rose halfway and slunk close to the ground to where the deputy was. He dropped to the ground again as soon as he reached Rick’s feet.

     Rick reached down and settled both hands on the wolf’s neck, massaging the fur there. “There, I didn’t mean anything earlier,” he muttered. His eyes over Daryl’s head to meet with Shane’s. “See? He’s fine.”

     Shane huffed, and out of the corner of his eye, Daryl saw him lower his shotgun. “How long until he’s not though? What happens when he goes off like that around Carl? Or those girls who were over here?”

     Daryl moved himself into a sitting position and threw his head at Shane. _I would never bite a kid. No matter how much they might beg for it._ He kept his voice from a growl, giving a snort. He unconsciously scooted closer to sit between Rick’s knees, head leaning to be under the protection of Rick’s arm. Shane wouldn’t dare shoot him as close as he was to Rick.

     Rick stroked his shoulder blades, scratching behind his ears and along his throat. He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, you’re forgiven.”

     _What?_ Daryl turned his head to look up at Rick. _I wasn’t askin’ for no forgiveness, Grimes. You just so happen to be the only thing not gettin’ me shot right now is all._ His snout dipped in a noise that sounded like a sneeze and the wolf huffed. _This sucks._ He hated how much he had to rely on Rick to save him. He’d never had to rely on anybody but himself, his whole life. Relying on other people got you killed. It scared Daryl that he had to place his life at the sheer mercy of another.

     Daryl jerked in surprise when Rick pulled the wolf’s head to his chest, roughly scratching his neck before standing and backing away. “Look, it really was my fault he was upset. I’ll watch him better and make sure Carl’s supervised if he comes out to see him.”

     Shane rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Whatever, man. It’s on you if he snaps, and I won’t hesitate to put him down.” He turned to stalk away, shotgun hoisted up and propped on his shoulder.

     Rick sighed and looked down at the wolf dog. “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t mean to freak you out there. I’ll watch my tone next time.” He knelt again, reaching for Daryl’s head.

     Daryl leaned away from the touch, grunting.

     “Easy, just checking if you’re bleeding at all,” Rick cautioned, hands moving closer again.

     Daryl huffed and sat patiently as Rick sifted through the fur on his head. A sudden pain shot through him as the man probed the sore spot. Daryl whined and twisted away from him.

     “Doesn’t look like there’s blood. You should be fine, alright?”

     Daryl grumbled. _Quite fussing, of course I’m fine._

     “Of course you’re fine,” Rick grinned, petting behind Daryl’s ear fondly.

     Daryl perked up in surprise. _You understand that?_ A happy bark escaped his throat before he pulled it back.

     Rick smiled. “You know, sometimes I wish I knew what goes through that head of yours.”

     _God. Damn it._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the two who reviewed and the several who gave kudos!! I really do love your feedback!! :D  
> Alright, I am caught up with what I have posted between here and FF.net. So the updates will start becoming weekly instead of daily. Expect chapter 8 really soon though, I have that one just about finished.

Chapter Seven

     The third morning waking up, curled in the dirt with fur and paws had Daryl at a loss. He didn’t know what had happened to him, and the reality of this form was beginning to overwhelm his mind. Birds whistled in the tree tops, horses nickered, chickens clucked and cows lowed in the distance. Every sound was clear to him. Nothing blended, everything stood out on its own. He could distinguish the slightest change in the atmosphere around him. He now understood why it was so hard to sneak up on a dog.

     He moved to unwind himself, stretching out and yawning. He walked straight past the filled food dish to get a drink of water before lifting his head and surveying the land around him. The camp was still quiet, though he could hear soft voices. He glanced upwards to see Glenn and Dale speaking atop the RV. Daryl flicked his ears towards them to pick up the conversation.

     “…ey have to know. I will tell them if you want.” Dale was speaking. The wolf cocked his head in interest. What did who have to know? Daryl wasn’t too keen on secrets, and have-to-know ones could usually get you killed.

     “I know, I know.” Glenn sounded worried, his hands folding, crossing, and fidgeting with the ball cap he was holding. “I’ll tell them. I found out first, it should come from me.”

     Daryl narrowed his eyes. He waited for the pair to continue, but Dale simply nodded and patted Glenn’s shoulder, turning his attention back to the farm land he was watching over.

    The wolf dog huffed and began to pace his line. He was feeling caged, not able to roam as he pleased. He felt the intense need to just run. The wide open fields around him taunted him with wind rustled grass and sunny hills. His chest constricted in the longing to take off and be free. He sat down with a snort, watching as the house door swung open. Patricia and Beth walked out to the porch, each carrying a basket. They both headed down the steps and set off down the dirt road. From the back, they looked just alike, curly blonde hair pulled up and off their necks.

     Careful zipping caught Daryl’s attention and he twisted his head back to see the Grimes’ tent slowly coming open. Not surprisingly, Carl slipped out, hopping with care as he cleared the entry.

     Daryl smirked. The kid was sneaking out. Not something his parents would be pleased about either. He didn’t miss the fact that Dale and Glenn also saw Carl, the old man shaking his head, but staying silent for the moment.

     The wolf sat rigid and watched as Carl turned his sights onto him and began making his way over. The boy smiled and slowed, approaching Daryl cautiously. He tilted the cowboy hat on his head; the hat that had been Rick’s. Daryl guessed Rick passed it down to his son or something like that.

     “Hey, boy!” Carl called softly, glancing back to the tents. He fished a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out something.

     Daryl’s nose twitched as he scented the air in the boy’s direction. His ears perked when he easily recognized dried jerky. _Boy, I’ll have you know this don’t change nothing._ Daryl sat stoically, watching Carl. If Carl intended on letting the wolf dog have the piece of jerky, he’d have to come deliver it himself.

     “Come here,” Carl called to him, holding out the dried meat. When Daryl refused to budge, the boy stepped forward and leaned in a bit more, offering his hand out. “Come on, look what I’ve got!”

     _I see what ya got. I just ain’t gonna be solicited._ He eyed Carl meticulously. 

Carl shuffled forward a few more steps, before giving up and approaching the wolf. He held out his hand again when he neared Daryl, jerky sticking out away from the appendage.

     Daryl finally reached out and snatched the food from the boy’s hand, devouring it in seconds.

     “Good boy,” Carl encouraged softly, fingers carefully stretching out and running over Daryl’s head.

     Daryl grunted, but didn’t show teeth or bite at Carl. He moved his head away from the boy, letting him know the contact was not appreciated.

     “You know, my friend Sophia is still lost out in the woods,” Carl said, sadness entering his eyes. It snapped quickly out, replaced by hard determination. “But I am going to find her! At first I was a little afraid, ‘cause the woods are real big, but now that you’re here, I bet we can find her together!” Carl patted the wolf dog’s head, kneeling in the dirt to look into the animal’s eyes. “You know how to find her, right? I mean, dogs find missing people all the time! The ones at my dad’s work did.” Carl glanced back towards the camp, then back at Daryl. “All you’d need is to sniff something that smelled like Sophia, and then you could follow her scent!”

     Daryl was actually caught off guard by the suggestion. _Holy shit, kid, that ain’t a bad idea._ For the first time since he’d woken up with a furry ass, Daryl felt like he could be of use. _You just need ta convince yer dad to take me along when he and the others go out today._

     Carl smiled at the wolf’s vocal display of yips and growls. “I knew you could!” he scratched behind one of Daryl’s ears and _Christ_ if that didn’t hit a sweet spot.

     Daryl grunted and half leaned into the boy’s fingers. He then realized what he was doing and pulled himself back, standing and shaking his head, carrying the movement throughout his entire body.

     “Carl!”

     Daryl perked as Rick’s voice carried to the pair. He glanced up and quickly trotted over to where Rick was approaching. He had to remind his tail to keep still. His instinct told him Rick was Alpha, though his own conscious rebelled at the thought. He was under no man. Yet he still waited with some kind of anticipation as the former deputy strode toward him.

     “Oh, uh, hey, Dad,” Carl sounded nervous and ashamed. The wolf heard him scramble to his feet.

     “What are you doing out here, you know how your mom feels about this.” Rick reached them, eyes flicking down to meet Daryl’s. He didn’t make a move to touch the wolf as he settled his hands on his hips, looking at his son.

     “But he’s not bad! He let me pet him, too!” Carl pleaded, his words tumbling out in explanation.

     Rick sighed, weight shifting. “That’s not the point. You don’t come over here without me or your mom, got it? Until we decide otherwise, don’t go within the reach of his chain. Do you understand?”

     Daryl turned his gaze back to Carl, watching the boy nod his agreement. He suddenly brightened. “Hey, Dad! Can we take him when we go look for Sophia? We can let him smell something that belongs to her and he can find her!”

     A sad smile crossed Rick’s face as he reached out and settled his hand on the ridiculous cowboy hat. “I don’t think so, Carl. Search dogs are specially trained to know what to do. I doubt he would know how to track her if we did let him.”

     _Jackass. Would too._ Daryl sniped indignantly, pulling himself up to his full height.

     Rick raised his eyebrow at him and shook his head.

     “Could we at least let him try, Dad? I just know we could find Sophia fast if he helped! Maybe if we took him back to where she first got lost, and he could just follow her scent!” Carl was sounding hopeful.

     Daryl didn’t feel guilty over the amount of confidence Carl had in his plan. The wolf dog knew that if he could just pick up the little girl’s trail, he could have her home in no time.

     Rick sighed, head bowing in thought. “Come on,” he said, spreading his arm out to guide Carl away. “Let’s go help with breakfast. We’ll talk about this later.”

     Carl looked a bit dejected, but nodded. “Okay.”

     Rick didn’t spare Daryl a backwards glance as he led Carl back to the camp site. The wolf sat down and gave an irritated huff, watching the father and son go.

     The morning drug on as painfully slow as the previous one had been.

     The wolf was restless beyond reason, a track becoming worn into the ground from his incessant pacing.

     Daryl watched Lori and Carol as they busied themselves with shaking out blankets and clothes, dust clouding where they worked. Andrea sat in a camping chair beneath the awning of the RV,  pistol in pieces in her lap as she clumsily tried to fit them all back together again.

     As the morning sun crawled up the sky, Daryl knew he was in for another sweltering day. Huffing, the wolf studied his area. He found a place close to the tree and began awkwardly scratching at the dirt. The sensation of the earth moving beneath his claws was a strange one, but the wolf side of his mind had no problem picking up the trait. He set about digging into the ground, creating a cool space to keep out of the heat.

     In an hour Daryl dug out his burrow. As he worked, he definitely noticed a change in temperature under the surface. The deeper he went, the cooler the earth became. After a while, he was able to lay down in the hole, his lower body comfortably cooling and his front paws draped over the top edge. Daryl still needed to keep an eye on his surroundings.

     As it neared noon, the sun was straight above, hot and bright. Lori called for lunch and the group gathered, stoking the fire pit and pulling chairs out and around to sit in. Dale and Andrea gathered dishes and utensils from the RV and brought them out. The rations were skimpy, but with as much as they’d forged from the highway, it was more than they’d been portioned in the quarry outside of Atlanta.

     Daryl observed the groups interactions. Carol seemed to keep mostly to herself, as usual, and Andrea, T-Dog and Shane were conversing over the watch schedule for the afternoon. Lori had an air of guilt about her and seemed to keep her gaze directed anywhere but her husband. Daryl recalled what Rick had said about her being pregnant and frowned. What did she feel so bad about? Daryl dwelt on this a moment longer before shifting his gaze to Glenn.

     That’s what really caught his attention.

    Glenn was fidgeting; casting nervous glances to the farm house. The wolf followed his gaze to see Maggie Greene standing out on the porch, arms crossed over her chest, staring back at the group. She was too far off to tell, but it almost seemed she was looking right back at Glenn. Daryl swung his head back to see Glenn exchanging a look with Dale, the old man nodding. The Korean kid let out a shaky breath and stepped up to where the rest of the group was. Something was on his mind, and Daryl knew it was whatever have-to-know secret he and Dale were discussing shortly before.

     “Um, guys?” Glenn’s voice wasn’t demanding, and the other’s didn’t pay him much attention but to throw him obligatory glances that said they were half-listening.

     “So,” Glenn continued before hurriedly blurting, “The barn is full of walkers.”

     Everybody fell silent. Birds chirped merrily and the warm wind blew carelessly through the trees. Sunlight filtered down through the branches and the whole of nature contrasted the fear and shock that had silenced the group.

    Daryl rose to his feet, hackles rising as something clenched hard in his belly. A growl ripped its way through the wolf’s throat as he tried to focus on the barn. The structure was too far off for him to get a good look at, but it’s once harmless presence was overhung with threat.

     A couple of the people sat in open shock, mouths dropped and eyes wide. Shane, followed quickly by Andrea, were the first to react. Stomping to the RV, Shane disappeared for a moment, only to return clutching his shotgun. He was off towards the barn without a glance back at the others. Everybody then burst into a flurry of movement and nervous chattering. Rick took a hold of Lori’s shoulders for a moment before turning and heading after Shane.

     Daryl pulled forward at the end of his chain. There was no way in hell he was being left behind while they were headed to danger. He barked loudly, trying to get their attention. He jerked at his line, but it only tightened around his neck, cutting off his air. He snarled in frustration, leaning back to release the tension of the choke chain. He barked again as his group began to disappear over the hillside, heading toward the barn.

     _Don’t leave me behind, damn it!_ He continued to wrestle with the chain, until finally he just stood rigid, ears snapped forward. He listened as intently as he could. He could see them down by the front of the barn. He made out Shane moving around agitatedly, gesturing at the barn and looking at Rick. He couldn’t catch what was being said, but he heard the angry tone of Shane’s voice as it rose. Carol stepped up next to Rick and the wolf could tell the three were arguing. If Carol was involved, Sophia was probably a part of the conversation. The usually quiet, mousy woman wouldn’t have gotten involved otherwise.

     Daryl waited, on edge. He pulled his lips back, baring his teeth at the situation, though nobody was around to see him. He watched for another minute before most of the group headed back across the field.

     Rick went straight to the Greene’s house, opening the screen door with more force than necessary and disappearing inside. Shane, Andrea, T-Dog, and Lori walked several yards from the barn, but stayed together, talking.

     Carol made her way back towards the campsite, Carl in tow. Carol went straight into the RV. Carl hung back, watching her go before glancing around him and hurriedly heading over to the wolf.

     _Let me off this chain, kid. I swear, I’ll let you put bows on my damn tail, just let me off._ Daryl’s series of grunts and yips didn’t seem to faze Carl as the boy looked behind him again.

     Carl pulled up his shirt and reached to his side, pulling at something.

     Daryl watched as a leash fell loose from where it had been bunched under Carl’s clothing.

     _Sneaky little bastard, ain’t ya._ Daryl commented as the boy stepped closer to him. The wolf dog had no intention of participating with the leash, but he needed Carl to unhook the chain’s clasp from the choke collar around his neck.

     “We’ve got to go find Sophia,” Carl said, worry crossing his young face. “Shane’s wants to leave because there’re walkers in the barn, but we can’t leave without her! We just can’t!”

     _Aw, shit kid._ Daryl felt sorry for the slip he was about to give the boy. _I’ll find her, don’t worry about it. But I’m not takin’ ya out there without yer dad._ He felt his muscles coil in anticipation as Carl began fumbling with the chain’s hook. As soon as he heard a metallic clink, he surged forward; pulling out farther than the chain had allowed him to go before. _Shoulda put the leash on_ before _you unhooked the chain, kid._

     Carl gave an exclamation of surprise, still holding onto the end of the choke collar. “Whoa, whoa!” he called, trying to pull the wolf to a stop.

     Daryl kept moving, Carl stumbling alongside him. The pressure around his throat was uncomfortable, but Carl wasn’t strong enough to hold him back. He didn’t want to break out into a full run for fear of dragging the kid along, but he didn’t slow down when Carl finally tripped and fell. The chain slipped through the boy’s fingers and Daryl was off.

     He headed for the barn, his legs stretching out and pumping hard. The air whipped in his face, flowing through his fur and he felt ecstatic. He pushed himself faster, reveling in the speed he was able to build up. It was nothing like he’d ever experienced before. He decided then and there that they wouldn’t get him back on that chain without a fight. He needed this release.

     The run was over shortly as he neared he barn. He slowed to a stop a few yards from the old structure and scented the air. He heard the gargling groans from inside and his hackles rose. He bared his teeth and stalked forward, examining the double doors. They were pad-locked and chained shut, a wooden plank further barring the way. Thuds sounded and the doors shook. The walkers were right at the doors. They had probably heard the humans talking outside.

     Daryl snarled back at the dead, sinking into a fighting stance. He didn’t like this one bit. They’d been camping at the farm for days now, how had nobody found this before?

     “You can smell ‘em, can’t ya?”

     The wolf threw his head back to see Shane standing a ways off, gun in hand, eyes watching the barn. Daryl turned his attention back to the doors as well, growling his displeasure. The decaying bodies inside stunk. _You bet. This needs to be taken care of. There’s no way we can risk them gettin’ out._

     “I won’t just stand back and be neighbors with the things that kill us. Something has to be done, and it’s pretty black and white. Kill them or leave.”

     The wolf dog felt Shane’s gaze on him and he turned once again to look at the man.

     “Why ain’t you runnin’ away with your tail between your legs?” Shane wondered, scrutinizing the wolf. “I’d figure instinct would dictate that.” The man seemed curious, though Daryl took it as an insult.

     The wolf growled and moved to watch the barn again. He stretched his head forward, teeth showing and ears back at a particularly rough hit against the wooden doors. _I ain’t no coward. I’d kill ‘em if I had ta._

     He could tell Shane was watching him. He wondered why the man wasn’t hauling his ass back to be chained up again. He only seemed all too eager to do that two days before.

     Footsteps rapidly approaching caught his attention as he looked back to see Carl running up, leash in hand. The boy stopped next to Shane, panting hard.

     Shane held out his arm to keep the kid away from the barn. “What’re you doin’ over here, go on back to the camp.” Shane said sternly. The man seemed to notice the leash in Carl’s hand as he asked, “Did you let him off his chain?”

     Carl looked down at his feet, shamed or embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for him to escape, really!”

     Shane pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Were you by yourself again? Damn it, Carl, how many times are we going to tell you this? Stay away from that animal!”

     Daryl cocked his head towards the pair, irritated. _I’m right here. Haven’t eaten him yet. Chill out man._

     “But he hasn’t been mean to me!” Carl exclaimed, voice hedging more on a plea. “He’s my friend! Dad says he can help us find Sophia!”

     Shane sighed at the sudden outburst. He knelt next to the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Carl, we don’t know anything about the wolf, ok? We tied him up for a reason, and that was for your safety and the safety of the other people in this group. I know he looks really cool, but he’s not our pet. We’re only keeping him until Daryl comes back.” He squeezed Carl’s shoulder, his eyes surprisingly not shrewd and angry for once. His voice had softened and reminded the wolf of the Shane he knew back in Atlanta. Daryl believed that, though Shane was heading for the deep end, the man still cared for Carl.

     The wolf let the fur on his shoulders relax as the noise and movement inside the barn quieted down once more. He sat down on his haunches, attention split between the conversation and the barn.

     There was a moment of silence before Shane asked, “Your dad really think he could track Sophia?” The man nodded in Daryl’s direction.

     Carl’s face brightened for a minute, then scrunched up in thought. “Well, he didn’t exactly _say_ that, but I think he could. We just have to give him something of Sophia’s. Maybe her doll! Isn’t that a really good idea, Shane?”

     Shane chuckled. “Sure it is. It’s a great idea! If we knew he could track. Carl, dogs have to go through training to do stuff like that. He wouldn’t understand what we were trying to do.” His gaze swept over to the wolf, appraising him.

     _Come on, people._ Daryl sat up straight and stared right back, his chest puffing out. _You just watch me._ He gave a small growl and with a single leap, was on his feet and running back towards the camp.

     _I’ll find that lil girl and bring her back myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's free!! :D Sadly, though, we know how the search for Sophia has to end. Ok, so I was feeling a little bad for how I've treated Shane. So he got his five minutes of not being a total ass. Will he come to terms with the wolf at the camp? Who will find out Daryl is actually the wolf? The Great Revelation is still to come, hang tight friends!  
> Much love,  
> Mitsom
> 
> Next chapter: Showdown at the barn, finding Sophia, and wrapping up Pretty Much Dead Already. Stay tuned!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8!! :D I really liked writing this chapter. Daryl is finally making use of being a wolf! :)  
> Thanks for the reviews! Basically, Ferret and Musicfox, but anybody who left kudos as well!

 

Chapter Eight

     SOPHIA, STAY HERE. WE WILL COME BACK EVERYDAY

     The words they’d painted onto the windshield of the stranded vehicle were fading; the white letters smearing and beginning to run down the glass. Nature was slowly erasing the hope that Sophia would ever return.

     The wolf balanced his front paws against the hood of the car, examining the message and looking over the cans of food they’d left for the girl, should she make her way back to the highway. Some cans had rolled off the hood and to the highway below.

     Daryl let himself down from his prop, panting in the sun. It’d taken him nearly forty-five minutes to reach this place. He’d run most of the way, reveling in the wind and freedom. He looked around. His form was much too short to see over any of the vehicles. He looked up at Sophia’s waypoint and gathered his haunches, coiling his muscles and springing himself onto the hood of the car. His nails scraped awfully against the metal, but the pads of his feet kept him sure. He then made a shorter leap to get to the roof of the interior. He sat down and gazed across the highway-turned-junkyard. As far as he could see, cars were jammed, wrecked and desolate. He recalled Lori’s remark about this place being like a graveyard, and sitting alone, taking in the sight, he agreed.

     _Where did all these people end up?_ He wondered, eyes narrowing as he swept the long stretch of abandoned vehicles. There had been several in which the poor drivers were dead and rotting in the terrible heat of the sun. But most of the cars had been empty. He remembered the herd that had wandered through right after the group had been forced to stop because of the traffic jam. There must have been a couple hundred dead that rambled past as he and the others hid from sight. And they’d almost gotten off scot-free. Sophia had been attacked and chased by the final few stragglers before she’d taken off over the guard railing and down into the woods.

     Daryl grumbled under his breath and hopped down from his perch. His weight thudded loudly against the hood of the car, his nails then clicking as he landed on the asphalt. He bent down and scooped up the ragged doll he’d managed to swipe from the campsite. Rick had had a map of the area spread out over the wooden picnic table, Sophia’s doll set right on the middle of the paper. The soft-bodied toy hung loosely in his jaw as he took off, bounding over the rail and slipping into the trees.

     The wolf made quick time over the ground he had covered previously. Her trail there was already cold anyhow. He placed the doll in the leaves and took a deep inhale. It mostly smelled of dirt, but Sophia’s scent still clung to it. He scented the air and ground around him, trying to distinguish some kind of track. Several smells mingled together, but he slowly categorized and separated them. The most faded scents were some he recognized. Rick’s scent came first, the one he was most familiar with. He quickly picked up Andrea’s and Shane’s after that. He was on the group’s old path. He couldn’t pick out Sophia’s scent, even though the others’ tracks were just a day more recent than the little girls would have been. He grabbed up the doll and started on his way again.

     The various wildlife species had his nose continually twitching at new smells. Occasionally he would catch a whiff of the decaying rot of the dead, but he never crossed paths with a walker. He kept an ear pivoting and listening for the telltale gurgles, not taking the chance of being taken by surprise.

     An hour into his search, he reached the old Baptist church they’d rested at. He approached it from a different side than they’d originally had, and it frustrated him. He was coming around full circle. He knew Sophia hadn’t ended up here. There was no trace of her.

     So maybe tracking by scent was harder than he thought. It didn’t help that he was trying to track a week old trail either.

     He scented the doll again before taking off in the opposite direction of the church. He kept his pace at a brisk trot, methodically making his way in between the trees and brush.

     The wind blew against his face and he froze, nose in the air. He could tell it was death, though his mind was distinguishing it as animal, not human. He followed the scent quickly, easily coming upon a bloody scene. There were no walkers nearby, though it was apparent at least one had been there. He approached the form stiffly, recognizing it as another wolf. Its entire middle was ripped into, intestines half-eaten. Daryl curled his lip and was about to turn away when he caught sight of the wound in the wolf’s shoulder. There was so much dried blood around it, he’d nearly missed it. It was a puncture wound. Suddenly, the markings and color of the wolf’s fur seemed all too familiar.

     _Sonuva…._ Daryl growled.

     It was the wolf that had bitten him three days ago.

     He couldn’t help the disturbed wave of unrest that slowly spread in his chest. The sight unsettled him for some reason he couldn’t place. The healing bite on his foreleg was suddenly itchy as his mind pondered this animal’s fate. The wolf shook himself through the feeling and continued on his way.

     It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon his second mauled animal. This time it was a young buck, tan hide bloodied and gored. His hackles rose at the prevalent stench of walker, but there wasn’t one nearby. The wolf almost skipped investigating the carcass, but a familiar scent suddenly seeped through the terrible odor of the walker. He set Sophia’s doll onto the forest floor and took a closer look.

     Rick had been there, probably several days ago. Daryl scented the air, pulling a new conclusion from the area. Not only had Rick been there, but Shane and Carl too. There was more blood on the ground, though not much, that belonged to neither the deer, nor the walker that had fed from it.

     Pieces quickly fell into place as deduced what had happened. This must have been the place where Otis had accidently shot Carl. A quick sniff at the buck confirmed the presence of buckshot and Daryl knew it had been deserted as the men tended to Carl, whose blood must be staining the brown leaves.

     He retrieved the doll and continued passed the deer, picking up his pace again.

     The bubbling of water hit his ears before the smell of the muddy stream did. He headed in that direction, soon coming across a small creek bed. Dropping the doll in the mud, he paused momentarily to lap up some of the dirty water.

     Licking his dripping muzzle, Daryl glanced around. The position of the sun suggested it was probably somewhere around three o’clock in the afternoon.

     Picking up the doll, he turned to head from the water when he caught a scent. Smelling the air, Daryl recognized it as what must have been Otis’ trail. He’d picked out the particular scent back by the half-eaten deer. The man’s track lead in the direction he was going to head anyway, so he fell in synch with the scent. It was an old trail, though the wolf knew that. Otis had died before Daryl had even gotten to the farm.

     The wolf must’ve been plodding on for fifteen minutes before he suddenly jerked his head up.

     _Is that…_ The wolf inhaled deeply, all at once overcome with joy and relief.

     _Sophia!_

     Daryl sprung into renewed vigor, not believing he actually picked up the girl’s trail. The scent was just a trace, but it was definitely there. The wolf wanted to race ahead, but he forced himself to carefully follow the trail, lest he lose it.

     _I’m comin’, girlie._ The wolf in him gave a happy whine as he lowered his nose to the ground and followed the long-awaited trail.

     Something in his mind flagged when he realized he was also still following Otis’ scent. He brushed it off though, presuming the girl had crossed the hunter’s trail, or vice-versa.

     The nagging feeling didn’t go away as he continued along the path, Otis’ and Sophia’s trail still lingering together.

     He wound his way through the woods, the territory unfamiliar. He hadn’t covered the ground himself, though every once in a while he spotted a blue flag nailed to a tree. If he wasn’t mistaken, Andrea and T-Dog had gone through this section of land a couple days ago.

     He meandered along the path, nose swinging back and forth, changing his direction as Sophia’s scent dictated. After several minutes, he could no longer ignore the speculation that Otis and Sophia were together at some point in time. It nagged at the wolf, because they would’ve had to have found each other before Carl had gotten shot. And that was barely twenty-four hours after Sophia had gone missing.

      The wolf’s thoughts were interrupted as faint, angry shouts carried to him. Flicking his ears forward, Daryl frowned. He picked up his pace, heading toward the sound. Several yards ahead of him, he saw the border line of woods and field. He hadn’t realized he was so close to the edge of the forest.

     He broke the tree line just as a gunshot pierced the air. He froze, staring across the far stretch of grass. Seeing the barn, he realized he was back on the Greene’s land.

     That’s when hell broke loose.

     Screams and gunfire filled the air as the wolf lunged into motion, Sophia’s doll dropped and forgotten as he tore across the open land. He knew it was the walkers in the barn. With each discharge, Daryl felt his heart jumping further into his throat. He pushed himself harder, leaping the old wire fence as he came upon it.

     He could make out forms now. It looked like every person, from his group and the Greene stead, was standing at the barn. Several of his people had formed a frontline, guns up and shooting at the walkers that were stumbling out of the partially open barn doors. It looked like only one or two could squeeze through the opening at once, and for that, Daryl was thankful. It would be easier to contain that way.

     He was still several yards out when he noticed Rick for the first time, standing, not with a gun, but with a catcher’s pole.

     Caught in the noose was a walker.

     A furious snarl built up in the Daryl’s chest. He vaguely registered Rick as the man finally saw the wolf. Daryl missed the look of panic in the man’s eyes as he launched himself at the walker-on-a-stick. The power behind his leap had the walker falling back several feet, jerking the pole clear out of Rick’s hands, the man stumbling forward at the force.

     Daryl was seeing red as the instinct to protect what was his took over. The wolf bore down on the walker, teeth brutally tearing into the rotting face.  The decaying skin ripped like paper, bone becoming the next target. With another vicious bite, the wolf broke into the corpse’s skull. Bloody teeth flashed as Daryl didn’t hesitate to tear out the vile mush that was brain.

     The walker wasn’t moving or making noise any longer, and the wolf knew he’d killed it. He leapt back and faced the barn, watching as Shane, T-Dog, Andrea, and Glenn were gunning down the rest of the dead.

     The wolf prowled behind the people with the firing weapons, not risking himself to rush out into the line of fire. The others had it handled. It wasn’t long before the last walker fell and the gunshots ceased.

     Daryl swung his gaze across the people around him.

     Hershel was knelt down in the dust, face shocked and pained. Maggie clung close to her father. Some feet behind them, Patricia stood with her hand on Beth’s shoulder as the young blonde girl cried into the boy, Jimmy’s, chest.

     Lori had Carl wrapped protectively in her arms and Carol was standing near them.

     There was a collective gasp and the wolf snapped his head back around to the barn.

     There was another walker stumbling out between the doors.

     Daryl bared his teeth, taking a step forward when nobody would take the shot.

     _What’re you waitin’ for?_ He growled, moving next to Shane. The man didn’t spare him a glance and the wolf frowned at the look on his face. Daryl looked back at the walker and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

     Thin gangly limbs. Short, dirty blond hair. Tattered, bloodied blue shirt with the near unrecognizable rainbow picture. Paired with the nasty bite wound on the side of her neck and the milky blue eyes, the walker silenced everybody with horror.

     It was Sophia.

     _Oh, no._ The wolf let out a strained whimper watching the shell of a girl stumble on towards the group. _No, no, no._ He heard Carol echo his mantra, whispering her daughter’s name. He caught movement from the corner of his eye, and briefly watched as T-Dog caught the distraught woman in his arms, holding her back from approaching Sophia.

     It wasn’t supposed to have ended like this. They’d had so much hope in finding the girl; it didn’t seem real that she was here in front of them. Dead.

     And still nobody moved.

     The wolf was torn. The walker was a threat, ambling towards his people, but it was also one of the youngest from his group, the one that needed protection.

     Daryl startled when Rick suddenly strode passed him, legs brushing the wolf’s shoulder as he stepped forward. The wolf pinned his ears down and slunk back a few steps, tail tucking between his hind legs. He whined again as Rick raised his Colt level with the little girl’s head.

     It shouldn’t have ended like this. That girl relied on them to take care of her. Relied on Daryl to find her. He had failed her in every sense of the word. She was dead because he couldn’t find her.

     The single gunshot resonated in his own chest, as if he’d also been hit. The girl collapsed in the dust, dead and gone.

     A symbol of whatever hope they’d had left, dead and gone.

     And still, nobody moved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. What a rush! Poor Sophia, but there was no going around it. How'd you like this more ferocious side of Daryl? Let me know in the reviews! :) We finish up Pretty Much Dead Already in this chapter, and will move into Nebraska in 9. 
> 
> Next chapter: Rick faces the ramifications of the incident at the barn. Beth collapses, Hershel goes missing, and there is something strange about the wolf. Stay tuned!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thanks for the few reviews and kudos! It means a lot! This chapter is way longer than usual, but I wrote until I covered everything I needed to. I guess that only serves in your favor. :)  
> I did use some lines straight from the show. It being from Rick's POV, I wanted to stay close to the actual story line.

Rick lowered his Colt. The strength in his arm seemed to have left with the bullet as it flew from the chamber. He gazed morosely at Sophia’s body. He briefly closed his eyes against the numbness of the scene. It was his responsibility to protect this little girl; keep her safe. How many times had he looked Carol in the eye and promised to bring her daughter back?

     He had been so mad with Shane for way overstepping the bounds Hershel set, he was blindsided by the little girl wandering out into the sunlight.

     Rick wasn’t going to brave a glance at Carol, but at the sound of retreating footsteps, he looked back to see her stumbling away from T-Dog’s grip, arms crossed over her chest and sobs wracking her body. He shifted his gaze to Lori’s, who was sitting in the dirt, Carl wrapped in her arms.

     In the shocked silence, the only noise was Hershel’s youngest daughter’s sobs. Rick turned to see her approaching and knew she was heading for the walkers.

     “Hey,” Rick reached for her, voice soft and consoling. His hand brushed her arm and she jerked herself out of his path. He let her go as she began stepping over the bodies of her friends, neighbors and family. She cried and knelt as she found who she was looking for. The girl pushed aside a walker that had fallen atop who Rick could only guess was her mother. Beth reached to touch the dead woman’s shoulder as a growl caught Rick’s attention.

      The deputy glanced to the side to see the wolf shoot forward, heading for Beth. Rick’s heart stuttered in fear and he pushed himself into a run. “No!” He yelled, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop the animal before he attacked the girl.

     Simultaneously, the corpse of Annette Greene suddenly awoke with a snarl and grabbed at Beth’s arm and hair, eliciting a terrified scream from the girl.

     A chorus of fearful cries echoed from almost everyone else as in a flurry of movement, they all surged forward to help.

     The wolf bite down on the walker’s arm and began pulling it back, helping Beth keep leverage over what used to be her mother.

      Shane and Rick reached Beth first, scooping arms around her waist and hauling her away from the walker’s grasp. Surprisingly, Hershel was there a second later, pulling Beth to him.

      The wolf leapt back just as Andrea was swinging a scythe, impaling the walker’s head with a single swipe.

     Rick looked back and forth from the walker to Beth, sighing when he didn’t see a bite on her. Jimmy came up beside her, hands floating uneasily about her waist as her knees began to buckle. Hershel held his daughter up and began to walk back to the farm house. Maggie and Patricia were close behind.

     Shane was suddenly pushing passed Rick, hurrying after the retreating group.

     “We’ve been out combing these woods lookin’ for that little girl!” He snapped, arm gesturing wildly to the trees at the end of the drive. “She’s been in there this whole time? You knew!”

     Rick sped up, catching the back of Shane’s arm. “Shane, stop,” he said in a low voice, not wanting to get into this altercation just yet. He realized, though, that Shane was right. The other man shook himself from Rick’s grasp, continuing his plight.

     “Leave us alone!” Maggie’s eyes flashed dangerously as she glared behind her. She hovered protectively alongside her father and sister.

     “You knew and you kept it from us!” Shane pointed his finger, hurrying to keep up with the family. Rick followed after, ready to intervene if things got physical.

     “I didn’t know,” Hershel mumbled half-heartedly, not turning to meet Shane’s challenge, for which Rick was grateful.

     “Bullshit! You _knew_!” Shane seethed back.

     “We didn’t know!” Maggie yelled, fury biting in the back of her words.

     They had reached the front porch steps, Patricia pulling Beth up to the landing as Hershel turned to meet Rick and Shane. Maggie went ahead and opened the storm door for the others. The gesture was ignored as they stayed on the porch, watching the argument unfold.

     “Otis,” the old man began, his voice pained and sorrowful. “Put those people in the barn. Maybe he found her and put her in there before he was killed.”

     “I don’t believe you!” Shane shouted.

     Rick wasn’t going to do the math right then, he moved himself between the farmer and Shane.

    “Everybody, just, calm down!” Rick exclaimed, shoving a hand into Shane’s chest to back him up.

     Glenn shifted nervously behind them, eyes going up to watch Maggie, no doubt.

     “Get him off my land!” Hershel was angry now, the sad tone harshened.

     The storm door banged shut as Maggie let it go to come back to her father’s side.

     Shane stalked forward, but before Rick could stop him, the farmer’s daughter was in Shane’s face, delivering a slap that resounded sharply.

     “Don’t you touch him!” She yelled.

      Rick had to take a step back as Glenn shouldered his way between Shane and Maggie, wary of how the man would react to being hit. Shane didn’t advance further, though.

     “Haven’t you done enough?” Maggie snapped, turning to head back up the porch.

     Rick watched as Hershel followed, making it to the door before turning back.

     “I mean it,” the farmer said, narrowing his eyes at Rick. “Get off my land.”

     Rick sighed and glanced at Shane, tension still running high. He met Glenn’s eyes as the young Asian looked his way.

     Glenn shook his head, disappointment written across his features as he headed up the stairs and into the house.

     Shane scoffed and turned away, making to head back to the barn.

     “Whoa, wait,” Rick growled, frustrated with Shane’s antics. “What was that?”

     “You know that had to be done,” Shane shot back. “And you know they knew. They knew she was in the barn.”

     Rick grasped at straws. “Hershel said they didn’t know.”

     “No, they _did_ know!” Shane argued, arm gesturing furiously at the barn.

     “I had this under control!” Rick said, his voice sounding weak and unconvincing to his own ears.

     Shane let out a humorless laugh. “Under contr- Rick, you were helpin’ him stockpile walkers in the barn!”

     “They were his friends, his neighbors, his _family_ , Shane. And you led a massacre against them.” Rick defended. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight around.

     “They were walkers, they were a threat!” Shane spat.

     “That’s not how he saw them!” Rick exclaimed, exasperated.

     Shane threw up his hands, rubbing the back of his head, gritting his teeth. “I can’t believe this. So you were just gonna pretend everything was sunshine and flowers while a _horde_ was being kept in the barn? When did you forget the fact that you have people here, _living_ people, to protect?” Shane accused, hands grasping his hips. “Huh? That you have Lori and Carl to protect? If you honestly believe everything would’ve been fine, you’re as big a fool as Hershel.”

     Without another word, Shane turned on his heel and stomped off towards the barn. Rick ran a hand through his hair, eyes burning. No tears fell, the feeling mostly anger and frustration building up. He had wanted to please Hershel and secure they’re good standing with the farmer. The barn had been locked tightly. The walkers weren’t hurting anything and weren’t a threat to his group’s wellbeing.

     Or so he kept telling himself.

     After a moment, he began to make his way back to the tragic scene at the barn. He knew he’d have to face the fact that Sophia’s body was there, lifeless and cold.

     As he approached, he noticed Lori, Carl, and Dale had left, gone back up to the camp. His gaze was pulled to see the wolf, and a whole new set of thoughts were brought on. He supposed it made sense that the animal could distinguish between a living person and a walker. The rotten stench was enough to warrant that. So, his not attacking Beth and going for the walker instead could be explained.

     But what Rick couldn’t explain was why the wolf was sitting, almost in vigil, next to the body of Sophia. The wolf dog had no way of knowing who Sophia was or how she mattered to the group.

     He came to a stop a few feet from Andrea and T-Dog as they were dragging the walkers and lining them up, more or less, making sure each one was dead before moving it off.

     Andrea paused and swiped her bare forearm across her forehead, careful not to drag her gloved hand along her skin. She looked up at Rick.

      “We’ll need to know which ones were their family if we’re going to bury them,” she said, motioning along the lineup, her flippant tone relaying her obvious disdain of the situation.

     Rick thought over the group’s policy of burying loved ones and burning the rest. He certainly didn’t want to dig the hole he was in any deeper and he knew he’d have to ask one of the Greene’s to identify the bodies for them. “As far I know, there’s only two,” Rick said, hands coming up to rest at his hips. “Hershel’s wife and son.” He was pretty certain the walker that had attacked Beth was Annette, but he wasn’t ready to assume that. He thought through the scenario before saying, “I’ll get Dale to go up to the house and ask Glenn to get somebody out here.”

     Andrea nodded her consent. “Glenn would be the best choice I guess.”

     T-Dog dropped the feet of the walker he’d been dragging and stood straight. “So as far as you know, we need three graves dug.” The man’s eyes slid to the side of Rick, passing back to Sophia’s body. The frown on his face deepened.

     Rick glanced behind him at the wolf sitting next to the little girl’s form, his ears straight up and twitching toward any noise that was made. The animal wasn’t facing them, but as they continued to stare, the furry head slowly turned to them, blue eyes appraising them.

     “It’s so weird,” T-Dog began. “What is he doing anyway? I mean, that’s Sophia, but he can’t know that.” He shook his head. “I’ve heard of dogs doing weird shit, but this is almost creepy how he knows. Or, seems to know I guess.”

     Andrea shrugged. “Let’s just finish this.” She looked at Rick. “It’d be nice if we could get some help digging those graves. As soon as this is over, the better.”

     Rick nodded. He flicked his eyes to the sky. It was the middle of the afternoon, right in the heat of the day. Digging would be easier in the cooler evening or in the morning, but he agreed with Andrea. The sooner they could bury their dead, the better.

___

     The afternoon wore on at snail’s pace. Rick took his turn shoveling dirt out of one of the graves, the shade of the giant tree nearby helping with the direct heat. He’d spoken with Dale and the older man had walked to the house to speak with Glenn. Minutes later, the young Asian and Maggie came outside together, Maggie pointing out two bodies. She didn’t speak, and the others kept their distance, except for Glenn, who stayed at her side. With a hand covering her mouth in grief, Maggie turned and went back inside the house. T-Dog and Shane set the two beside Sophia.

     Jimmy had come out a little later, and was currently digging out one of the graves alongside Rick and T-Dog.

     After the holes were relatively deep, they lowered the bodies in them and began the faster process of refilling the grave.

     As they shoveled in the dirt, Rick glanced up to see Hershel, his girls, Patricia, and Glenn walking over. They stop a little ways off, forming a crescent shape around the grave site.

     Hershel approached further and Rick stuck his shovel in the ground to meet him.

     “This one’s Annette’s,” Rick said, pointing his arm to one of the graves. “The one next to hers is Shawn’s.” Rick had gotten the name of the boy from Jimmy, who’d been able to identify most of the other walkers as well.   
       Hershel just nodded, eyes watching as his wife and son were buried. Beth and Maggie came up beside their father, leaning on each other.

     When the graves were filled, Rick turned to Andrea, who was standing by. “Will you go tell everyone that we’re ready for the memorial?”

     The woman nodded and turned towards the camp. Rick watched her leaving, his eyes sweeping ahead of her to where Lori was sitting with Carl and Dale in the camping chairs around the fire pit. He caught sight of the wolf, sitting at the foot of the RV’s door steps. His thoughts jumped to Daryl and he realized with heaviness what the hunter had missed. Daryl had gone out several times looking for Sophia, exerting more effort than most of the others combined. The little girl’s death would be a disappointment to him. But Daryl had been missing himself for three days, and Rick wondered if they shouldn’t be digging four graves. His frowned deepened at the thought. He knew something was wrong the moment he saw Daryl had left behind his crossbow. The hunter was almost never seen without it hanging around his back. He’d left the group with no sign of where he went or where he could be. What got Rick even more was when Daryl could’ve brought back the wolf. Sure, he’d set up his tent a little ways from the rest of the group, but he wasn’t out of sight from the guard post on top of the RV. Somebody should have seen Daryl bring the animal in. But nobody had. The whole situation was perplexing and Rick found himself going in circles running it over in his mind.

     Rick watched as Andrea returned with the others in tow. Carol was not a part of the group and when Lori reached him, he voiced his concern.

     “She didn’t want to come,” Lori explained, folding her arms. “Said it wasn’t Sophia to her.”

     Rick’s heart felt for the widowed and now childless mother. He didn’t dare think about what would’ve happened had Carl died. He nodded and followed Lori to stand in the growing half circle around the graves.

     Unlike the service they’d held for Otis, nobody said anything. There truly was a loss of words.

     Slowly, people began to trickle away in their own direction. The sky was a beautiful golden orange as the sun approached the evening.

     Rick realized it must have been nearly dinner time, but he figured nobody would have an appetite after the events of the day.

     As he was leading Lori and Carl back to the campsite, Lori touched his arm.

     “Let’s go for a walk,” she said. “I don’t want to go back there just yet.”

     Rick nodded in understanding. “Sure,” he agreed, nudging Carl in their new direction.

     They trailed off toward the end of the driveway and into the field across the street. They walked along the fence, down to the tree line. Carl tromped a few feet in front of his parents, exploring.

     Rick and Lori walked in silence. It wasn’t very companionable, the tension between them keeping them from small talk. The tension wasn’t fueled by anger, but by shame and disappointment. Rick didn’t want to understand why Lori tried to kill their unborn child without even telling him she was pregnant. Lori was sorry, and he could read the regret in her features, but it would take time to build back up the trust that had been destroyed.

     “Hey!” Carl said excitedly. “C’mere, boy!”

     Rick looked ahead to see the russet wolf moving their way from the forest’s edge. He never figured out how or why the animal was off his chain.

     “Carl,” Lori warned, “Get back here.”

     “But mom, he’s totally cool!” Carl complained. He turned his eyes to Rick. “Dad, tell her he’s ok around people.”

      “Listen to your mom, Carl,” Rick reprimanded, not sure how the animal would react now that he wasn’t restrained.

     Carl sighed disappointedly, and slowly made his way over to his mother.

     The wolf wasn’t deterred by the fact that they were there. He kept his pace and didn’t veer from his path as he was headed straight toward them.

     Rick wouldn’t have paid him mind, yet something hanging from the wolf’s mouth caught his attention.

     “What’s he got?” Rick asked, though the back of his mind had already registered what the item was.

      “Is that Sophia’s doll?” Lori wondered, confusion evident in her voice, her thoughts confirming Rick’s.

     As the wolf made to pass the humans, Rick stepped into his path. The animal stopped and bristled, growling low in his throat.

     “Whoa there,” Rick said, holding up his hands. It was Sophia’s doll the wolf carried, though why he had it baffled Rick. “Hey, why don’t you just give that back now.” Rick kept his voice even. The doll should be given to Carol, since it had been a favorite of her daughter.

     The wolf flattened his ears and growled louder, backing up a step and making to go around Rick.

     “No,” Rick said sternly, quickly snatching at the doll. He caught the foot of the toy and pulled it straight from the unsuspecting animal’s mouth.

     The wolf snarled and lunged at Rick.

     Rick backpedaled, tripping on his heels and falling in the grass.

     “Rick!” Came Lori’s frightened scream.

     A heavy weight crashed into his chest and he found himself on his back, staring up at razor teeth and icy blue eyes.

     Instinct had already dictated his movement as his right hand clutched his now unsheathed knife, the point ready to sink into the animal’s belly. Something inside him pulled back at the last moment, the sharp tip sifting the light-colored underfur, but not piercing the skin.

     Rick was frozen, but so was the wolf. The animal wasn’t diving for his throat or even growling at him. He was just standing, his front paws digging into Rick’s chest and pinning the man to the ground. The blue eyes weren’t as wild as Rick expected, but they were angry. The animal’s breathe huffed out heavily, his teeth baring once more before he backed off and snatched the doll from the ground and ran away.

     Rick sat up slowly, shocked.  

     “Rick!” Lori exclaimed again. She was at his side the next minute, kneeling next to him. “Are you hurt?” she pulled at his arm.

     Rick stood and brushed the grass from his pants, Lori’s hands sliding over the back of his shirt, reaching what he couldn’t.

     “I’m fine,” Rick said, slightly surprised that he hadn’t gotten bit. He returned his knife to its holder, heartbeat still racing with adrenaline.

     “That thing is a menace!” Lori snapped. “It should have been taken care of days ago. There is no way it can live around us!”

     Rick was already shaking his head. Something was wrong with the whole thing. “He didn’t even bite me, Lori,” he said. “I don’t know, it’s like he knows not to hurt us or something.” He spread his arms, at a loss of how to explain his feeling.

     “He attacked you,” anger colored Lori’s words, her voice dropping lower as she was getting into fight mode. “And now he’s running around free. How can you not see the threat he poses? Did you _see_ what he did to that walker earlier?” She shook her head. “No, Rick, kill it before he kills first.”

     “Aw, but mom!” Carl started.

      “No,” she stopped her son’s retort. “Let’s go.”

     They trekked back through the field and made their way to the road. As they were coming back up the drive, they were met by Andrea, who was running towards them.

     “Rick!” the woman called frantically. “Come quick, something’s happened!”

     Rick met Lori’s concerned gaze and he squeezed her arm before running after Andrea. She led him straight up to the farm house, throwing open the door and holding it for him.

     He could hear the commotion once he was inside and narrowed his search, meeting Shane in the hallway.

     “Beth’s in some state,” Shane said shortly. “And we can’t find Hershel.”

     Rick listened to Shane for a moment before pushing past him and entering one of the bedrooms.

     Maggie and Patricia were bent over the bed, Beth laid out and staring up at the ceiling. The blonde girl’s face was blank, and Rick noticed her stare wasn’t focused.

     “What happened?” Rick demanded as Maggie noticed him for the first time.

     “I don’t know,” the elder Greene daughter was panicky, her eyes wide and frightened. “She must be in shock or something. She collapsed in the kitchen and we can’t find my daddy.” She grasped her sister’s limp hand, holding it firmly. “Beth, can you hear me, sweetie?”

     Patricia looked up at Rick. “I can start an IV drip, but we need Hershel.”

     Rick nodded grimly and turned out of the room.

     “Hershel!” he called, starting to open doors and look inside. He jogged up the stairs and found what must have been the old man’s room. Shane was there digging through things.

    Boxes were scattered around the room, one sitting on the bed. Rick pulled the box to him and rifled through the contents. There was a photo album and an off-white lacy gown. It was a wedding dress, probably Annette’s.

     “Look here,” Shane called.

     Rick looked up in time to catch what Shane had tossed to him. He turned the object in his hand. It was a silver flask, light enough to be empty.

     “Looks like he found an old friend,” Shane quipped as Maggie and Glenn came in.

     Maggie grabbed the flask from Rick’s hand.  “Daddy gave up drinking the day I was born,” She said, her words defensive. “He doesn’t even allow liquor in the house.”

     “Then what’s the local bar?” Rick pressed; dread hardening in his gut at the thought that Hershel left the farm to find alcohol.

     Maggie looked like she was piecing it together as well. “Hatland’s,” she replied quickly. “And that’s where he spent most of his drinking days.”

     “Then that’s where I will find him,” Rick said, letting the finality of his statement ring. He knew his group was responsible for driving Hershel to drink, and he felt he owed it to the Greene family to bring him back.

     “I’ve seen it, I know where it is!” Glenn spoke up. “I’ll show you.”

     Rick nodded to the young man. “Alright then, let’s go.”

    “No,” Maggie suddenly snapped, stepping up to block Glenn from leaving.

     Confused, Rick looked to the girl.

     “What?” Glenn seemed equally perplexed. “It’s an easy run!”

     “Oh, you mean like the pharmacy was an easy run?” Maggie shot back.

     “It won’t be like that again,” Glenn said, looking at a loss.

     “Maggie,” Rick said, brushing her arm. “I’ll bring him back.” He wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but he assumed they’d had a scare during one of their runs a few days back.

     He strode from the room. Lori had been watching from the hallway and followed him down the stairs, pulling him away to the semi-privacy of the sitting room.

     “Are we going to talk about this _before_ you leave?” She snapped, her voice peeved.

     “Beth needs Hershel, and frankly it’s the least we can do for them,” Rick shot her down quickly. As he turned to leave, she caught his arm.

     “Carl said he would have shot Sophia himself.”

     Rick stopped, the words sinking heavily in his head.

     “He’s growing cold,” Lori continued. “He needs a father. One that’s around, not one who runs off to solve everybody else’s problems.”

     “We need him for the baby,” Rick pressed, his patience wearing thin. “So he is our problem.”

     Rick pulled open the front door and headed down the steps, making his way to their vehicles. He pulled the door to the truck open and set about checking his gun, making sure he had it completely loaded. As he waited for Glenn, he glanced up and swept his eyes across the land. The hills rolled and the grass blew in the nice breeze. They had finished transporting the rest of the bodies away from the barn. The only indication that there had been a fight was the blood staining the dirt.

     Rick’s gaze was pulled to the grave site, farther off, but still visible. His mouth parted and his brow furrowed.

     Sitting, head bowed over Sophia’s grave was the wolf. The animal was just in the process of dropping the doll over the freshly shoveled dirt mound.

     Rick just stared, not knowing what to think. The wolf’s behavior was eerie, and it was starting to concern Rick.

     As the farm house screen door rattled shut, Rick brought his attention back to the matter at hand. He’d have to deal with the wolf later. For now, they had to find Hershel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to drop a comment or some kudos! :) Chapter 10 will wrap up Nebraska and we'll be one episode closer to the end of season 2!
> 
> Next chapter: Daryl learns that something is wrong and Rick is gone. Daryl takes action and he might just change Lori's opinion about him. Stay tuned!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Chapter 10! I finished this one a whole lot sooner than I thought I would. On top of that, chapter 11 just needs about 500 words before it's done! I am a writing machine.

Chapter Ten

     Daryl heard the rumble of an engine and swung his head to watch as Rick and Glenn drove off in the pickup truck. When they reached the end of the driveway, they turned the same way the old man had a while ago. He had heard Andrea’s frantic calls earlier and wondered if this had anything to do with what was going on inside the house.

     It didn’t matter. Not to him. He dropped his neck again, sighing heavily over the little girl’s grave. He’d retrieved her doll from where he’d dropped it only a couple hours ago, though it felt like days had passed since he returned from his futile tracking. He whined a final apology to Sophia before standing and looking around.

     He wasn’t sure what to do now. His stomach clenched and rumbled and his throat itched. A horrible aftertaste stung his mouth, the rot of the walker brain he’d pulverized still lingering. Daryl turned his sights to the oak tree where the water pale and food dish was, but he didn’t care to be anywhere near that chain again.

     He was hungry though, and started to make his way across the field to the tool shed where Rick had initially tied him. Sure enough, the carcass of the squirrel he’d chomped was still there. A little picked at and surrounded by flies, but still there.

     Daryl didn’t know how to go about it civilly, so he grabbed the rodent around the middle and began chewing. Somewhere between now and two days ago, he’d lost the uncertainty of tearing up the small tree animal with his bare teeth.

     Tiny bones cracked and snapped as he found a routine of crunching and then shredding what meat or organs he found. It wasn’t very fresh, but it was good.

     _Hell of a lot better than that dry shit._ He mused, licking his bloodied muzzle. He needed a nice long drink to wash it down and began his search for some water that wasn’t next to the stupid chain.

     He wandered around the farm a bit, eventually coming across the chicken coop and stables. His nose twitched, interested in the chickens that were squawking about behind the wire fence. The wolf shook himself, knowing it’d be a death sentence if he nabbed one, or three, of the fowl. The rattle of the choke chain around his neck irked him. He hardly noticed the weight of it around his throat, but it jangled when he ran or moved excessively. Noticing the pointed edges of the chicken wire, he approached the coop.

     Dragging his neck along the side of the wiring, the points scratched comfortably against his skin. He rubbed his head back and forth until he felt the catch of the chain against the wire. Slowly, he leant into the edge of the fence and walked backwards, feeling the chain slide as it stayed caught.

     Ducking his head, Daryl carefully continued sliding back until he felt the chain slip over his ear. He huffed and pulled back quickly, the choke collar falling over his muzzle and to the dirt.

     _Ha! Would ya look at that._ Daryl internally patted himself on the back, congratulating his own craftiness. He walked away, his head held higher than usual and his tail swishing with his swaggering gait.

     He continued to the stables, trotting through the open breezeway. Two of the horses raised their heads over their stall doors and nickered nervously at him. He shrugged them off and raised his nose, smelling water.

     When he couldn’t find the source out in the open, he realized the water must be in the stalls. At first he thought he was finished in the barn, not going to risk getting trampled by a half ton animal, but then he noticed the stall near the end was empty.

     He saw a stack of feed bags lining the outside of the box stall and easily leapt on top of them. He could now stretch his head over the half-wall and saw that there was a trough of water set against the far side of the enclosed area. Ensuring that there was a way for him to get back out of the stall; he jumped over the wall and onto the stack of hay bales that were positioned parallel to the feed sacks.

    He braced his front paws along the edge of the trough and drank his fill. When he had finished, he licked his muzzle clean and vaulted himself back over the wall.

     As he made his way back down the breezeway, he glanced up at the name plate engraved next to one of the stalls. It read _Nellie_ in curly script, the horse eyeing him from her stall. He could hear her hooves moving nervously as she snorted at him, the whites in her eyes showing.

     _Stupid horse_ Daryl growled, recognizing it as the one that’d thrown him.

     Nellie whinnied in fear and quickly backed away from the door.

     The wolf smirked and walked back out of the stables. The sun was setting, the vibrant colors of the sky softening into gray. Daryl moved restlessly, making his way around the property again.

     As he neared the barn, he heard soft voices. His ears perked and he approached the noise. Sidling along the building, he reached the back, peering around the corner.

     Shane sat with Carol, next to the water pump. The man was holding Carol’s hands, rubbing them.

     Daryl was confused momentarily before Shane dipped his fingers into the water pale that was set between them and let the excess water drip onto Carol’s arm, carefully wiping at it.

     The wolf picked up an occasional sniffle from Carol and Shane would shush her kindly. He cocked his head at the genuine display of care.  Shane had been irritated and edgy for days; the sudden change in behavior was perplexing to the wolf.

     But he was internally grateful that Carol had someone watching out for her. Daryl had tried keeping an eye on her, lying outside the RV while she was sobbing inside. But he’d heard her declaration about Sophia being a monster and, disgusted, he’d left his post.

     Without being noticed by the pair, Daryl slunk back and turned, heading towards the house. As he was plodding along, a third car was speeding down the drive. The wolf stopped and watched, both annoyed and concerned that people kept leaving.

     It was Lori that was pulling away, and she was by herself.

     Daryl bared his teeth. _Pregnant and going off alone? Come on, idiots, who let her do that?_ He knew Lori wasn’t even showing yet, but it didn’t matter, pregnant was pregnant.

     He assumed Lori was following after her husband, and it got him curious. Rick hadn’t been gone an hour yet, and if she somehow planned to catch him, the wolf figured Rick must’ve been heading somewhere close by. Probably the local town a couple miles up the road.

     Daryl huffed, feeling himself grow interested in what was happening. He went straight up to the house, awkwardly hopping up the porch steps. He wanted to climb, one foot following the other, but his body seemed to know springing with his back legs together was the easiest way to go about it. Daryl went to the closest window and peered in, seeing the living room. Dale was there, and so was Andrea, both sitting. He perked his ears forward to catch what was being said.

     “She’s not bit; we made sure of that when we first heard she’d fainted.” Andrea’s words.

     “I suppose that was wise, with her being attacked earlier.” Dale was agreeing.

     “Yeah, but she’s still got a fever,” Andrea said.

     Daryl cocked his head. Beth Greene was the only female who’d been close enough to a walker to warrant concern for a bite. He saw Maggie Greene enter the room just then, arms hugged across her chest.

     “Anything yet?” Maggie’s thick southern drawl was anxious.

     “No, they’re not back yet,” Andrea said, standing up.

     Maggie was then hurrying to the window Daryl was watching through. Her eyes briefly met his before she stepped close to the glass, searching beyond him.

     “They should be back by now.” Maggie’s voice was clear now, only slightly filtered by the barrier between them. “If daddy was at the bar, they’d have been there in five minutes. Something went wrong.”

     “We don’t know that.” Dale’s voice was more muffled, he being farther from the window.

     Dread was swirling around in Daryl’s gut. Hershel apparently went for a drink, Rick and Glenn following after him. If what Maggie said was right, and something was wrong, then Lori was heading towards the problem as well.

     _Damn it, people. Can there be just one day where yer not making stupid decisions?_ Daryl snorted, turning from the window and picking his way down the stairs. He built up his pace to an even run, heading down the drive.

     It was almost completely dark now, a little streak of light left just over the horizon line. The wolf turned the way he’d seen the other vehicles go and picked up his speed a bit. If the town was just a couple miles out, he could be there in a matter of minutes. His eyes rapidly developed in the low light, and he found he could actually see very well. Much better than he could have were he human.

     Daryl had been running for somewhere nearly ten minutes when he noticed the flashing taillights ahead. As he drew closer, he noticed the vehicle must’ve been sitting off the road, in the grass.

     Then his ears picked up the growling gasps of a walker.

     Daryl pushed himself into a sprint, reaching the car in seconds. His chest clenched when he realized it was the car Lori had been driving, tipped over on its side in the ditch. The thought of Lori dead and being the walker quickly faded as he noticed another body trying to push its way through the windshield of the car. The wolf heard a scream and knew it was Lori’s.

     _Sonuvabitch._ Daryl leapt into action, jumping onto the walker and biting down on its shoulder. It gave an angry hiss and jerked under the wolf. Its face was trapped inside the windshield though, unable to pull back.

     Then, suddenly, it slumped forward, falling still. When it didn’t start moving again, Daryl figured Lori had stabbed it in the head.

     Daryl focused through the windshield until he made out Lori, staring up at him, frightened. He released the walker and jumped to the ground. He heard Lori moving about in the car, and soon she came crawling out of the driver’s seat window. She fell to the pavement ungracefully, and it would’ve been comical if Daryl wasn’t so concerned. He kept his distance from her, knowing how uneasy she was about him. Honestly, the feeling was mutual.

     Lori sat up, shaky. She took a deep breath and stood.

     Another walker suddenly stumbled out from behind the vehicle.

     Daryl snarled a warning to Lori, one she probably misread, and charged.

     As he shot passed her and lunged for the walker, he heard her realizing gasp.

     The wolf tackled the walker and then leapt free of its grabbing fingers and snapping jaws. He matched the walker’s snarls with more vicious ones of his own, his teeth baring. Daryl bristled and circled the walker, his muscles tense and ready to spring should the walker try to head for Lori again. He heard the woman fumbling and actually yelped in surprise when a gunshot sounded right close to him.

     His sensitive ears rang and he shook himself rapidly to quell the panic that had hit him with the loud bang.

     The walker was dead, its brains now splattered on the pavement.

     _Well now, who’s helping who?_ He huffed, noting that Lori had managed to kill both of the walkers, even though she had just been in a car crash.

     _And who the hell wrecks on an open road?_ He growled lightly, sweeping his gaze up and down the street.

     Lori had been bent at the waist, her hands braced against her knees. She took a deep breath and straightened up, looking at the wolf.

     Daryl didn’t miss the twitch of her hand, the one that still clutched the gun. His ears folded back in anger, and he got ready to run if she decided to raise the weapon on him.

    Lori watched him a moment longer before turning abruptly, tucking the gun into the back of her jeans and continuing down the road.

    Daryl growled and jogged after her. _Just what do ya think you’re doin’? The house is the other way._ He placed himself in front of her.

     Lori set her mouth and walked around the wolf.

    Daryl grunted and moved with her, pushing his head against her leg to get her to stop. _You just crashed a car; go back to the damn farm!_

“Get away from me!” Lori snapped, taking a step back and glaring at the wolf. “I’m going to find my husband. Understand _that_?” She sneered the last word, and the wolf cocked his head in confusion.

     _What’s your deal? And yeah, I know what you’re tryin’ to do. But you’re in no condition to go walkin’ aroun’ at night! Geez, woman._ Daryl heard the clipped growls and yips he was giving her and stopped, hating the way he sounded when he was trying to get a point across.

     Lori let out a humorless guffaw and held her hands out before letting them slap to her sides. “The thing does talk back,” she disdainfully mumbled to herself, though the wolf picked up every word.

     From where he was standing, Daryl suddenly saw headlights heading their way. He growled low and ran to the side of the road, giving a quiet bark to Lori when she didn’t follow.

     Lori turned and shielded her eyes against the vehicle as it approached. It slowed to a stop and Daryl was relieved to see it was only Shane getting out. The man took in the sight of the wrecked car and walkers, and then looked back at Lori.

     “Shit, are you alright?” He asked hurriedly, walking quickly to her. “What happened?”

     “I’m fine,” Lori said. “I hit a walker. It came out of nowhere. I’m going to find Rick.”

     Shane caught her arm. “No, you’re comin’ back with me.”

     The wolf was swinging his head between the two, watching the argument unfold.

     “No, I’m not!” Lori snapped, jerking her arm out of Shane’s hold. “I am goin’ to find my husband! Don’t you dare stop me, Shane.”

     Shane stepped back at the hostility in her voice. Daryl watched as he could see something formulating in the man’s eyes.

     “He’s back,” Shane said, putting his hands on his hips. “Rick and the others got back a while ago. They’re all ok. Now we’re all lookin’ for you.”

     “Really?” Lori asked, relief evident in her voice.

     Daryl cocked his head. _They are not, ya liar._ Daryl didn’t disagree with Shane’s line of thinking, though. If it got Lori to go back to the farm, he didn’t see the harm.

     Shane looked down at the wolf, his eyebrows furrowing. “He follow you or something?”

     Lori shook her head. “He just came out of nowhere and attacked the walker in the windshield.” She tried to keep Shane’s attention as his eyes widened. “I had it under control; I was the one who killed it. I killed both of them.”

     Shane looked like he was about to retort, but he seemed to change his mind, sighing. “Alright, well, let’s get you back to the house,” Shane said. “We’ve all been worried sick.”

    How Lori bought the lie, Daryl couldn’t tell, but he was glad she was climbing into the passenger seat of the green Honda. Shane walked to the driver’s side and grabbed the handle. The man suddenly glanced back at the wolf. He let go of the handle in favor for opening the back seat door. He whistled.

     “Come on,” he called when Daryl didn’t move from his place in the road. “I ain’t offerin’ again, and I’m not coming back for you.”

     Daryl drew himself up. _If Rick’s still out there, that’s where I’m goin’._ Honestly, he couldn’t believe Shane was offering to give him a ride.

     The man shrugged at the wolf’s indifference and pushed the door shut, climbing into the driver’s seat and pulling a quick U-turn, heading back towards the farm.

     _That takes care of her, then._ Daryl snorted and turned his back to the retreating vehicle. The wolf pushed himself into an easy lope. He knew he had to be close to the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does Lori think now? We don't exactly know. But Shane doesn't seem so cold toward him anymore!  
> Drop a review or give kudos if you haven't already!! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next chapter: Daryl reaches the town to find Rick and co. pinned down in the bar by a gang of heavily armed men. With a horde of walkers closing in, the wolf takes big risks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11! Who would've thought I'd make it six more chapters? I didn't... But I am so glad I have! :) Thank you so much to those who reviewed and followed! :) I love hearing from you guys!
> 
> Ok, so I wrote and re-wrote the ending to this chapter like, four times. I couldn't get it exactly how I wanted for some reason. But I'm satisfied with what I ended up with. Enjoy!
> 
> Mitsom

Chapter Eleven

     Several minutes passed before he finally reached a rail-road crossing that went into the small downtown area. The wolf slowed to a trot, the fur on his neck bristling. Something felt terribly wrong. The wind blew and he picked up several scents. Human scents. There were people around that he didn’t know.

     “Tony! Dave!”

     The wolf growled and slunk quickly into the shadows of a nearby building. He crept to the edge and looked out into the main street. There were a couple SUVs parked, engines running. Unfamiliar men were walking about in the street. There must have been five or six spread out along the road. Every one of them was armed with an automatic weapon.

     “Did no one think to check the bar?” One of the men asked, and three of them began heading for the same building.

     _The bar! God damn it!_ Daryl felt his heart speed up. That’s exactly where Hershel and Rick were supposed to be. He crouched low and watched. His eyes flicked over to the street running adjacent to the bar, noticing two familiar vehicles. One was the pickup Rick and Glenn had been in, and the other was the one Hershel left with. So they were still around somewhere.

      There was a loud thud of a door being slammed, drawing his attention back to the men at the front entrance to the bar.

     “What the,” he heard one of the men mumble. “Tony, Dave, you in there?” He rattled the front door, but it didn’t open.

    Daryl felt his heart lighten slightly. Maybe his people were in the bar after all.

     “Your friends drew on us!” Came a muffled yell from inside the bar.

     _Rick!_ Daryl suppressed the whine that built up in his throat.

     “We had no choice!” Rick continued.

     _Aw, what did ya’ll do?_ Dread once again clawed at the wolf’s chest as he realized ‘Tony’ and ‘Dave’ were probably dead inside.

     The men drew back in apparent agitation, one of them making a round up motion with his hand, motioning everyone who was nearby forward. The man made a few more hand gestures, sending some men off and around the building. The wolf watched in horror as the remaining three then raised their guns and opened fire on the bar.

     Windows shattered and wood splintered as rapid fire bullets sprayed into the old store front.

     _No!_ Daryl didn’t bother pulling back the bark that tore from his throat. He could only watch until the gunfire ceased.

     Silence hung heavy in the air and Daryl’s heart seemed to have stopped beating. He gave a long, quiet whine, voicing his concern.

     Another breeze blew his way and his head then snapped up. The gurgles of several walkers could barely be heard. They were still a ways off, but Daryl could smell them now, the rotting stench reaching his nose.

     “Just back down and nobody else gets hurt!” Rick’s yell drew Daryl’s attention back to the bar and he felt another wave of relief course through him at the evidence that the man was still alive.

     The wolf didn’t give it another thought as he gathered his legs beneath him and shot out from his hiding place. He knew where he was aiming, the broken window on the front door to the bar.

     He built his speed so fast the newcomers barely had time to make an exclamation before he was launching himself into the air, front paws hooking over the jagged edge of the busted window. Hauling his weight forward, he scooped his hind legs beneath his belly and settled them on the ledge. He used his back feet to push himself forward again, successfully carrying him into the bar.

     The momentum had him scrabbling across the wooden floors for a moment, but he found his footing quickly and whirled to look into two astonished faces.

     Rick and Hershel were crouched on either side of the door, guns drawn. He wondered where Glenn was, fear briefly clutching at him. He shook himself stared back at the two men.

     _What’re you starin’ at?_ Daryl growled. _C’mon, we gotta go, there’re walkers out there._ He barked authoritatively at them, swinging his head around to look for another exit. He saw a doorway and ran off toward it. He winced as his paws stung against the ground. He must have cut the pads of his feet on the glass shards on the window. _No time for being a wuss, gotta get out of here._

     The wolf caught onto to a familiar scent and figured it was Glenn’s. The young man’s smell had yet to really settle with his brain, but he was pretty sure of his guess. He nosed open the partially cracked door and looked into a storage basement, a set of wooden stair descending to the low-set room.

    Hearing footsteps behind him, he noted Hershel was following him. Rick stayed farther behind, covering the entrance.

    Daryl made his way quickly down the stairs and found Glenn hunched in on himself, watching the rear door.

     Hershel passed the wolf and approached Glenn from behind, the young man suddenly whirling as he heard the farmer coming up. Hershel jumped as Glenn brought his gun up in obvious nervous energy. After recognizing Hershel, Glenn blew out a sigh and turned back to the door.

     “I saw someone pass by I think, but I don’t see them anymore,” he reported.

     “Rick wants you to get to the car,” Hershel said

     “What?” Glenn’s voice was aghast. “I can’t go out there!”

     “You can with me coving you,” Hershel said sternly. “I’ve got your back, son, now go.” The farmer nudged Glenn’s shoulder, spurring the younger man toward the exit.

     Daryl shifted from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his paws. _C’mon, I’ll go out there with ya._ He grunted softly behind Glenn, pushing his nose against the young man’s knee.

     Glenn jumped and looked down at the wolf. “What the- What’s he doing here?”

     Hershel simply shrugged. “Must’ve followed your car. The one you need to be gettin’ to now.”

     Glenn gripped the door know with a shaking hand and gently unlatched it, pulling it open. The wolf darted quickly between the Asian’s legs and out the door, keeping low to the ground and making it to the fence across the alley.

     _C’mon, I don’t see nobody out here._ Daryl growled softly, trying to keep noise to a minimum.

     The moment Glenn stepped out into the alley, a volley of shots went off, peppering the ground, brick, and fence around them. Glenn made a wild dive and Daryl heard him hit the ground, but he didn’t see where he landed. The wolf pressed himself behind a wooden crate, the box just tall enough to hide his body.

     He heard Hershel return fire, but the farmer had to duck back quickly as another round pinged off the doorframe. Daryl glanced over his improvised shield, seeing the attacker several yards away, advancing with an assault rifle tucked against his shoulder.

     The wolf bared his teeth and silently slipped over the wooden crate, ducking low to stay in the shadow of the fence. As the man raised his gun towards Hershel again, Daryl shot out from the dark, not giving the man time to react.

     The wolf tore viciously into the man’s thigh, blood pouring free and seeping between the animal’s teeth. Daryl leapt back as the man stumbled, clutching the wound. He tried to aim at the wolf one handed, but before Daryl could attack again, there was another shot, and the man was knocked backwards with an agonized cry.

     Daryl darted back to the relative safety of the dark alley, ears attentive to a low voiced conversation between Rick and Glenn.

     Daryl stretched his head, keeping it low, and looked down where he’d last seen Glenn. There was a large metal dumpster in the way, and he couldn’t see around it. The wolf made the voices and huffed in relief as he heard Glenn assure he was alright. The young man hadn’t been hit in the exchange of bullets after all.

    Screeching tires sounded and Daryl whirled around, hackles rising. But the vehicle wasn’t headed for them.

     “Let’s go! We got dead beats coming our way!” One of the passengers shouted out the window.

     “Hold on, I gotta get down!” Yelled another voice.

     Daryl looked for the second speaker and saw the shape of a guy on the top of the next door building.

     “There’s no time! Look, just jump!” The man from the car was shouting back.

     Daryl could hear the growls of the walkers now. They were close. He caught sight of one ambling along the road, only to be shot down from one of the men in the car.

     There was a loud thump, and suddenly someone was screaming and the vehicle was racing off.

     Daryl stood as Rick, Hershel, and Glenn jogged past him to get to their cars. Off to the side, the man the wolf had bit and Hershel shot was falling under a group of walkers. Terrible screams filled the air as the ravenous monsters ripped the skin from the man’s arms and face.

     “Help! Please, don’t leave me!” cried another voice.

     Daryl looked to see another person, just a kid, lying on top of a dumpster. The guy’s calf was impaled on the wrought iron fence that separated an alleyway with the main street.

     The wolf growled when Rick changed direction and ran to the kid. Hershel followed, but Glenn stayed behind, voicing his concern about the oncoming walkers.

     _Leave him, Rick! There’s no time!_ Daryl barked. He looked and saw, the area was about to be overrun. Walkers were fast approaching their parked vehicles.

     The wolf swung his head back to see Rick and Hershel assessing the kid’s leg, Rick finally calling for a hatchet. The kid’s pained and horrified cries were drawing the dead right to them.

     Daryl whined low, tail tucking between his legs as he stood next to Glenn, watching the walkers. Glenn fired a few shots, but he didn’t have nearly enough ammo to take on the entire horde.

     The kid released another gut-wrenching scream and the wolf looked back to see that Rick had pulled the leg straight off the iron spike.

     _Get your asses movin’!_ Daryl barked, turning his attention back to the walkers. They were way too close now; the pickup truck now out of the equation as it was swarmed around.

     Realizing the others wouldn’t be able to get to the remaining vehicle in time, Daryl made a split-second call.

     Barking at Glenn to return to Rick and Hershel, Daryl ran directly for the mass of dead.

     Snarling loudly, the wolf tackled the first walker he reached. He jumped away immediately and unleashed a tirade of loud, angry barks.

     Heads were beginning to turn his way as he continued making as much noise as possible. He drew some of the walkers away, and pack mentality seemed to do the rest of the trick as many others trailed after.

     Daryl leapt and bit into a rotten arm, shaking it violently and then bouncing back, commanding the attention of the walkers. He raced ahead a few paces, not willing to be caught under what would be an awful dog-pile.

     An engine revved to life and car doors began to slam closed, tires screeching as the others were able to make a safer get away.

     As Daryl played keep-away with the walkers, he noticed Hershel’s Chevy speeding the opposite way of him. Panic briefly overcame him at the thought of being deserted by his group, but his instincts kicked into overdrive as he turned tail and ran. He pushed his legs to pump faster and faster, pulling ahead of the horde and charging straight into the camouflage of the forest.

     His uncanny night vision helped him navigate the thick underbrush, and he didn’t miss a step. He sprinted on for several minutes, lungs soon heaving for air. He slowed to a trot, and realized he couldn’t even smell the walkers any longer. Panting hard, he continued his light jog through the trees, putting as much distance between him and the horror of the night.

     For several hours, he continued to walk on through the woods, drinking deeply when he came across a stream. He rested periodically, ears strained to catch even the faintest sign he had been followed.

     There wasn’t a sound though, and slowly, the adrenaline seeped from his veins. The pain in his feet became nearly unbearable, and he could smell the blood on them.

     Exhausted and hurting, the wolf found a small alcove beneath a large tree and squeezed himself inside. He curled in on himself, eyes watching the entrance for intruders until he couldn’t keep them open any longer.

* * *

 

     Chirping birds roused the wolf. He opened his eyes to see sunlight filtering down from above.

     Grunting, Daryl began to stretch himself out, limbs crunched and sore. He clambered out of his sleeping spot and shook himself of the loose dirt and leaves that had collected in his coat.

     Daryl winced at the pressure on his paws as he began limping along. He didn’t recognize the territory, but he knew he’d find his way.   

     He came across the shallow creek and drank his fill before dipping his paws in. The cool water stung the cuts on his feet, but it soon faded into a nice soothing feeling. He sat on his haunches and tried to turn his paw to him to see the bottom of it. The position was awkward for him, and he eventually lay down to get the best view, twisting his leg inward. His right paw in particular burned. He couldn’t see past the inflamed, bloody pad, but he was pretty sure there was glass stuck in there. He tried biting at the wound to free the glass, but he only succeeded in hurting himself more. Fresh blood began running from his foot and he huffed, standing. He favored his right foot as he began hobbling along.

      It wasn’t long before there was a break in the trees and he found himself on the right road. Just around the bend were Hershel’s fields.

     The wolf limped down the road, his limbs aching. When he finally reached the end of the farm house drive, he huffed in relief. He paused for a moment to take in the sight of the old house.

     “Well, would ya look at that!” Dale’s voice called from across the way.

     Daryl looked toward the camp site to see curious faces looking his way.

     Glenn saw him and gave an incredulous laugh. “Hey, Rick! He came back!” The young man called behind his shoulder, starting to head Daryl’s way.

     The wolf raised his head, pushed out his weary chest, and tried to keep the limp out of his step as he made his way over to his group.

     Glenn crouched down when he was a few feet away, clicking his tongue and holding out his hand.

     The wolf paused and looked at him. Glenn cautiously extended his hand and Daryl let him brush the fur on his head, seeing the admiration in the young man’s eyes.

     “Good boy,” Glenn praised, scratching behind the wolf’s ears.

     Daryl curled his lip at the statement, but didn’t do much else. He caught movement behind Glenn and looked up to see Rick approaching, Lori behind him.

     Rick crouched next to Glenn, and Daryl let the man grasp both sides of his neck. Rick lifted the wolf’s chin, gratitude emanating from his gaze. He massaged his fingers into Daryl’s fur, rubbing up and down his neck and ears.

     Carl was suddenly at Rick’s side, tipping his ridiculous hat up and crouching next to his father.

     “Can I pet him, dad?” The boy asked eagerly. “Please!”

     Rick glanced behind his shoulder and exchanged a look with Lori, the woman’s eyes flicking to the wolf’s. Daryl held her gaze, seeing hers soften.

     “Go ahead,” Lori relinquished, gesturing to the wolf and setting her hands on her hips.

     A big grin plastered across Carl’s face as he reached for the wolf.

     Daryl let the boy scratch behind his ears, knowing it meant a lot to the kid.

     Andrea joined the gathering, and the wolf was suddenly claustrophobic. He grunted and pulled out of Rick’s hands and away from Carl’s fingers. He backed up a bit, turning to walk away from them.

     “He’s limping.” He heard Lori say, and he became aware of the pain in his paws.

     “Is he alright, dad?” Carl asked, an anxiousness entering his voice.

     “I don’t know,” Rick replied.

     Daryl heard boot-falls coming up behind him, and Rick stepped around in his path.

     “Hey,” Rick said, bending down.

     The wolf stopped and looked up at Rick, huffing.

     “Can I see your leg?” Rick asked, holding out his hand.

     Daryl didn’t want the help, but he couldn’t fix his foot himself. He sat down and lifted his right paw.

     “There ya go,” Rick said, taking the wolf’s ankle in his hands. He looked along the leg before turning the paw around, examining the pad. He pressed his thumb next to the gash.

     Daryl yelped and jerked his foot as what felt like needles stabbed into his paw.

     “Sorry!” Rick said, moving his grip higher on the wolf’s leg. He glanced up at Glenn, who was standing nearby. “His foot’s cut.”

     _No shit, Sherlock!_ Daryl whined, trying to tug his leg back.

     “Um, I guess we actually need Hershel to be a vet,” Glenn said, giving an awkward chuckle. “But he’s working on Randall right now.”

     Daryl cocked his head. _Who’s Randall? Yer not tellin’ me the little shit who was shooting at us last night is getting medical attention from us?_ If his guess was right, the kid that had been stuck on the fence made it back with the other three. He didn’t like the thought one bit.

     “I think we could manage to clean it up a bit while we wait,” Rick said, rubbing along the wolf’s foreleg.

     Daryl curled his lip and pulled his leg away. _Quit yer pettin’._ He growled quietly.

     Rick pushed himself to his feet. “He saved several lives last night,” he said, glancing around at the Glenn, Lori and Carl. Andrea had since wondered back to the camp site.

     “I say we make him an honorary member of the group,” Glenn piped up, drawing raised eyebrows. Even Daryl threw an exasperated look at the young man.

     Glenn shrugged. “What? He’s obviously not afraid of walkers, he’s smart, and he likes us. I vote we keep him.”

     “Yeah!” Carl exclaimed. He looked up at Lori. “Can we mom? Please?”

     Lori turned to Rick. “He made it possible for you to make it back home.” She gave Glenn a small shrug. “I guess I’ll vote ‘yes’, too.”

     “Yes!” Carl crowed.

     Rick chuckled. “I’ll talk to everyone else, see if they’re alright with it,” he said. He crouched next to the wolf, smiling at him. A sad light suddenly reflected in the man’s eyes. “I know why Daryl would’ve wanted you around,” he said, “and if he ever comes back, we’ll thank him.”

     _Come on, man, it’s me! How am I supposed to show you that?_ The wolf let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a choked whine.

     Rick stood once more, gesturing towards the farm house. “C’mon, let’s go see Hershel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally official! They all like and trust wolf!Daryl to various extents! He even managed to crack Lori! :) Alright, this chapter finished up Triggerfinger. We only have four more episodes to work through until we get to the end of season 2! I get super excited every time I write through another episode.
> 
> Give me your feedback! Tell me what you thought! I'd love to hear from YOU! :))
> 
> Next chapter: Daryl stays at the farm while Rick and Shane go to release Randall away from the group. Beth is suicidal, Carol is depressed, Carl is lonely, and none of it is Daryl's problem.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12!!!!!! :D I am so happy I have been able to write this much more. I slowed it down this week purposely, since a week's worth of time has passed in the story itself. :) 
> 
> I was hoping for a more light-hearted chapter this time around, with all that's been going on. I was smiling while writing certain portions of it, so I know at least parts of it will be a bit silly. 
> 
> Just a warning, I don't know how triggers work, but there is extensive thoughts on suicide in this chapter.
> 
> Read, enjoy, and let me know what you thought! :)
> 
> Mitsom

Chapter Twelve

     Daryl lounged on the front porch; lean body sprawled and stretched out. His front paws hooked loosely over the edge of the first stair as he gazed out at the sunny fields. Half an hour earlier, he had watched Shane and Rick drag Randall to the trunk of the green Honda, the kid trussed up, blindfolded, and ear-muffled.

     It had been six days since Hershel had stitched the gaping wound in the teen’s leg. By the doc’s orders, they’d kept Randall around for a week to allow the injury time to heal.

     Shane hated Randall from the get-go, and the wolf was surprised the man had managed not to kill the kid. Instead, the ex-cop fell into line with Rick’s plan. They were currently driving out, eighteen miles was Rick’s pick of distance, searching for a place to ditch Randall.

     Daryl yawned and stretched his shoulders back, moving to his feet. His paws were nearly, if not completely, healed. Though all four of his feet had at least been cut by the glass, his front right paw was the only one that had shards stuck in it. Hershel had treated and wrapped each foot, putting three stitches in his front paw. The wolf had then been allowed to sleep in the front parlor of the house, mostly because Hershel didn’t want him infecting his freshly treated feet by walking around out in the dirt. Not that Daryl had any qualms with the set up. He was, for the most part, left alone and given a large comforter to sleep on.

     Hershel treated him differently now. The old man would actually pat the wolf’s head as he passed, and even after Daryl’s feet healed enough, he allowed the wolf to eat in the kitchen, letting him have the innards and parts of the chickens the human’s didn’t cook up and eat themselves.

      Daryl plodded to the screen door, using his nails to hook into a chipped gap in the door’s framing. He gave a quick tug, the light weight door swinging open a little. The wolf stuck his paw between the door and the frame, keeping it from closing tight. He pushed his nose in the wider space and slipped into the house. It wasn’t that he liked spending the time indoors, or liked being with the family, but he did enjoy the fact that he had his own space.

     The wolf made his way into the kitchen, seeing Lori chopping up some vegetables and arranging them on a tray. Daryl knew the prepared lunch was for Beth. The girl had recovered from her state of shock, and her fever dissipated after a couple days, but she was still in depression from mourning her mother and brother. She rarely left her bedroom on the second floor.

    Daryl felt sorry for the girl, but the way he saw it, Beth had better grow some sort of back bone if she planned on surviving in this new world. It didn’t help that they were living in isolation. The farm had neither been overrun by walkers, nor found by less-than-friendly intentioned marauders. The wolf hoped that whatever group Randall had come from was moving in the opposite direction. The first couple days after Rick, Glenn, and Hershel’s return, the entire group was on edge. Guard duty doubled and precautions were taken in case the strangers stumbled across the farm.

     But the week had passed without incident, and everyone was breathing easier. With Rick and Shane dumping Randall, the days could go back to some kind of normalcy.

     Lori finished putting together Beth’s lunch tray and turned to head for the stairway. Noticing Daryl, Lori smiled and grabbed a piece of potato from the counter and tossed to the wolf.

     Seeing the more domesticated side of wolf had really put Lori in a more pleasant mood around him. She wasn’t so leery about him, and didn’t scold Carl when the boy got close.

     Daryl pushed the potato slice around with his nose before taking it between his teeth and making quick work of it. He found that his wolfish side preferred meats, but he readily ate anything that wasn’t dry dog kibble.

     He heard Lori’s steps creaking the floor boards on the floor boards above, followed by an opening door and her muffled voice telling Beth about the lunch.

     The house was pretty thin-walled. Everything creaked and low voices could be distinguished, even on opposite floors. Daryl supposed it didn’t help that he could hear every small detail anyway.

     Beth and Lori conversed for a short minute before Lori came back down, looking flustered and a bit put-off. The woman set about cleaning the lunch dishes, movements a little more agitated. Daryl didn’t actually care what had transpired between her and the girl, but his keen observation had him categorizing the change in attitude anyway.

     He wandered out to the entryway, pushing his nose against the screen door and walking back onto the porch. The wolf took the stairs quickly, his footing sure. Daryl made his rounds around the immediate property. He circled the stable and went passed the camp, seeing Dale on top of the RV. Daryl barked and the old man waved at him. The wolf saw Andrea walking the fence and trotted over to join her.

     “Hey there, Rambo,” the blonde woman said, glancing down at the wolf.

     _No._ Daryl snorted his disdain for the name-game Andrea played. Every time he was around her, she would have another name to try on him. Several people in the group had suggested names. Now that the wolf was there to stay, they figured they needed to call him something.

     Andrea shrugged. “I say that one fits pretty well.” She gave him a half-smile, fiddling with the pistol at her hip. She was obsessed with her weapon, constantly messing with it, cleaning it, or disassembling and putting it back together. “Or maybe just Sylvester.”

     Daryl guffawed and walked with the woman for a while.

     They rounded the barn and headed back for the camp site.

     Daryl heard the screen door slam shut and swung his head to see Lori quickly descend the steps. She waved at Andrea.

     “Andrea?” Lori called, her voice edged with concern. She made her way quickly to them. “Where’s Maggie?”

      Andrea’s brow creased in thought. “Out in one of the fields still, as far as I know. Why?”

      “Could you go get her and tell her to come back to the house? I can’t leave Beth,” Lori didn’t expound further.

     “Is there something wrong?” Andrea pressed.

     Lori shook her head. “Not yet, but there might be. Beth needs her.”

     Andrea nodded and turned quickly, taking long, hurried strides across the property.

     Daryl watched as Lori headed back into the house before he turned and followed Andrea. He broke into an easy lope, overtaking the woman and passing her to reach the vegetable plots.

     He reached Maggie first, finding the young woman kneeling in the dirt and tending to the plants. She looked up at him as he approached.

     “Well hello there,” she said, her accent drawling pleasantly.

     _Yer needed at the house._  Daryl barked to her, though he knew very well she couldn’t understand.

     “Oh, what?” She playfully asked, reaching a gloved hand out and swatting at his neck.

     He grunted and leaned away from her.

     “Maggie?” Andrea called from a ways off, jogging toward the pair.

     The farm girl stood and pulled off her gloves, dusting her jeans. “Yeah?”

     “Lori needs you back at the house,” Andrea said, coming up to a stop. “I’m not sure why, but I think Beth may want you or something.”

     Maggie frowned and nodded. She bent down and picked up the basket of carrots she’d pulled and began the walk back to the house, her pace brisk.

     Daryl watched the women head off. He was half-interested in the problem, and would check in with them later. He needed to stretch his legs at the current moment.

     The wolf continued his tour around the farm land, the grounds memorized and practically ingrained in his mind. He paused momentarily alongside the wooden fence lining the horse pasture. Balancing his front paws on the middle plank, Daryl propped himself up to look across the field.

      Loud, untrained steps filtered to his ears. Daryl knew who it was approaching him, and swung his head to see Carl tromping toward him.

     “Hey, boy!” He called, his ever-present cowboy hat tilting precariously on his head.

     Carl stepped up next to Daryl, climbing onto the fence and throwing his leg over the other side, straddling the top board.

     “You know,” the boy began, swinging his legs in thought. “I’m trying to get my dad to name you. I’ve got some awesome ideas. So does Glenn, T-Dog, and Andrea, but nobody can agree on one.”

     Daryl rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the horses that were grazing several yards away.

     “I was thinking of Brandon, or maybe Hunter,” Carl continued, his tone saddening. “They were my best friends in school. Before the walkers came.”

     The wolf looked back up at the boy, seeing Carl gazing glumly out at the horses. He didn’t miss the irony of the second name.

     “I really miss them. We played soccer together at recess every day,” Carl sighed, his body slumping in depression.

     _Sorry ‘bout your friends, kid._ Daryl huffed, leaning over to nose the boy’s leg. _But there’s no use wallowin’. They’re either dead or far away by now._ He knew it was horrible consolation, but Carl couldn’t tell either way.

     Carl gave a dry chuckle, patting the wolf’s head. “Those names would be better than Glenn’s choice. He wants to name you Master Chief.”

     _Hell, no._ Daryl snorted and backed off from the fence.

     “Hey, Carl?” A familiar voice called.

     Boy and wolf turned to see Dale walking over.

     “Why don’t you come back to the camp where I can see you?” The old man suggested. “That’s what your mom wants.”

     “But I’m with Hunter Brandon,” Carl said, gesturing to the wolf.

     Daryl winced. _Just, no, kid._

     Dale raised an eyebrow. “Named him, huh?”

     Carl nodded. “After my best friends from school.”

     Dale smiled. “Well, you can tell me all about them back at camp. Come on now,” he ushered his arm.

     Carl swung his leg over the fence and jumped down, going to follow after Dale. The boy looked back at the wolf and whistled.

     “Come on!” he called.

     Daryl huffed and followed the pair back up towards the tents.

     They came up along the RV, Glenn waving to them from his perch on the roof of the vehicle.

     “Come on, Hunter,” Carl yelled obnoxiously, throwing Glenn a smug look.

     Glenn’s mouth opened a bit before narrowing his eyes. “Nuh-uh! Hey, Master Chief, look up here! Come on!”

     “Come on, Hunter, c’mere boy!” Carl called, racing ahead and turning to pat his leg, expecting the wolf to follow him.

     Daryl watched the kid run off, raising his eyebrow and looking back up at Glenn.

     “That’s it, Master Chief, don’t listen to Carl!” Glenn beamed down at him.

     Dale was chuckling at the display.

     _Y’all’re idiots._ Daryl snorted and turned around, sticking his tail in the air and going his own way. He heard the disappointed exclamations behind him, and he merely swished his tail as a sign of “screw you”.

     He went back to the house, and before he even made it to the porch he heard the screaming. Scratching open the screen door, he slipped indoors.

     The shrill voices amplified when he got inside. It was Maggie and Beth, obviously fighting with each other.

     Taking the stairs in as big of leaps as he could manage, he found his way to Beth’s bedroom. Nosing the door open, he peeked into the room.

     Beth was sitting up in her bed, tears streaking her cheeks and blue eyes lit with an unusual fury. Maggie stood, her back to the door, her arms gesturing out with anger. Both girls were yelling, Maggie angry and Beth defensive.

     “You’re such a selfish brat!” Maggie shouted, her words harsh and grating.

     “It’s my own choice!” Beth shot back in reply.

     “You know how much I’d have hated you if you did that?” Maggie seethed levelly before raising her voice again. “You don’t just get to check out because you’re scared! Not when you have family! You don’t get to just quit!”

     Daryl pulled his lip. Maggie was angry because she was scared, that he could tell. Based on the context of her words, was Beth contemplating suicide? The wolf grumbled low to himself.     

     Beth let out a frustrated scream. “Don’t you get it? I can’t take it anymore! That was my _mom_! That was Shawn! They’re dead, Maggie! Dead!” She choked, trying to hold back a sob. “And they’re lucky because they don’t have to watch everyone they love die! I don’t wanna see anyone else die either!”

     “So you’d make me and daddy deal with losing you on top of Annette and Shawn?” Maggie snapped, her voice quick and hard. “You’re his baby girl, and you’d do that to him?”

     Daryl watched as Beth turned away from Maggie, lying back against the pillows. She tightened her jaw and didn’t answer her sister.

      _Teenagers._ Daryl huffed before taking his leave. _If she don’t have what it takes, then she don’t have what it takes. She’ll go one way or the other._ He snorted. That was a harsh reality, but if Blondie couldn’t stomach this new world, then she’d just end up like Sophia. Helpless and dead.   _She’s just bein’ dramatic. Give her a knife and teach her how to use it against the dead, not herself. She’ll learn to adapt_. The wolf couldn’t sympathize very well with the suicidal mindset. His whole life had been fueled by self-preservation. _And when it comes down to it, her instincts to stay alive will keep her that way._

     He trotted downstairs, only to be greeted by a quarreling Andrea and Lori. They were arguing over whose job it was to do laundry. Of all things.

     _For cryin’ out loud, people! Grow the hell up!_ Daryl snapped, continuing on his way, pushing out the screen door descending the porch steps.

     Moody and irritable, Daryl didn’t go back to the camp, but took off running across the fields to release some pent-up energy.

     The sun warmed his back and the cool wind whipped through his fur. The summer weather was steadily easing into autumn. Daryl figured they were probably nearing the end of September.

     The wolf kept the farm house in his sight as he made his lap around the rolling fields. He approached the homemade cemetery, he slowed to a walk.

     Carol was kneeling next to her daughter’s grave, shoulders hunched.

     _It’s ‘bout time you payed that lil girl some respect._  Daryl growled, approaching Carol. This was the first time he’d seen the woman by Sophia’s grave.

     Carol glanced in his direction, hearing the wolf.

     “What?” she snapped testily as the wolf sat down a few feet away. “Shoo,” she waved her hand away.

     Daryl cocked his head at her.

     “Just go away!” Carol grit through her teeth. “We don’t need you around here.”

     The wolf was confused. _I’ve saved y’all’s asses._ He rumbled lightly.

     “If Daryl hadn’t bothered with you, he’d still be here,” the woman’s eyes flooded with tears and she raised her hand to her mouth. “I don’t have anybody, now. My baby girl is dead and he’s gone.” She gave a humorless laugh. “I feel so empty. It’s just me now.” She reached down and laid a hand on the dirt over Sophia’s grave. “It’s only me.”

     The woman was mumbling to herself, tears streaming down her face as her fingers sifted through the loose earth. Her hand suddenly fisted into the dirt and she drew back, turning on the wolf.

     “I said go away!” She cried, throwing a fist full of soil into the wolf’s face.

     Daryl jumped to his feet and retreated quickly, snorting and shaking his head, the dirt stinging with the force it had been thrown with. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, growling low as he continued to step back.

     _What the hell!_ He snapped, swiping a paw over his snout. _Know what? Screw you too! I was out there lookin’ for yer girl! I didn’t hafta, but I did!_

The wolf yelped as another clump of earth sprayed into his eyes, nose, and mouth.

     “Leave!” Carol sobbed, hand digging into the ground again, jerking back up in desperate movement. “Leave, leave!”

     Daryl growled again as he turned his body to keep from getting nailed in the face with the dirt. He broke into a run, getting out of her aiming range before stopping to look back.

     The disconsolate woman sat, head bowed and shoulders shaking, her cries quiet and broken.

     Daryl huffed. _Fine! See if I care next time!_ Daryl bit out, though what ‘next time’ there could possibly be eluded him. Carol was right; she’d lost her entire family. And he hoped to God they wouldn’t have _another_ suicidal member on their hands.

     _This day just keeps getting better and better._ The wolf though snidely as he began to walk about aimlessly.

     He ended up back at the oak tree he’d once been tied too. He grunted as he flopped down in the hole he had dug, folding his legs under him. He watched the camp for a moment, accounting T-Dog, Glenn, and Dale all talking about one thing or another. Carl was a ways off, attention absorbed in something else. Andrea had come back outside at some point, and she was busy wiping down her pistol.

      _Obsessed._ The wolf clipped, turning away and laying his chin on his front paws.

     He laid there for some time, sitting up only when Maggie came storming out of the house, spit-fire mad and looking ready to kill.

     Andrea hurried forward and met the farm girl half way between the camp and house. The meeting was explosive on Maggie’s end. Daryl put together that Beth had actually made an attempt on her own life, but failed. Andrea was supposed to have been watching over the younger girl. The wolf pulled his lip. He knew where Andrea stood on the choice of suicide, and knew she probably deliberately left Beth unattended. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, and it settled heavily in his stomach. The feeling, he realized, was his protective streak. Though he had been flippant about Beth’s situation earlier, he fully thought the girl would cave to her sister and get over herself. The fact that Beth had actually attempted made him uneasy and somewhat angry with Andrea.

     _We’re supposed to protect the kids, what the hell is wrong with everybody!_ He growled, though he was too far away from the women for them to hear him.

     Maggie concluded her tirade with a threat to Andrea.

     “Don’t you dare step foot inside this house again,” the older Greene daughter hissed. “Stay away from us. _Both_ of us!”

     The girl stomped back up the steps and left Andrea and Lori, who had been watching the encounter from the porch, standing outside in her roiling wake.

     Cross once again, the wolf got to his feet and stalked off to the pastures. He paced the length of the horse’s fence several times, growling to himself and thinking over how screwed the world had become.

     A few minutes later, the rumble of an engine caught his attention and he glanced over to the driveway. The green Honda was pulling up the dirt road, Rick and Shane having made it back.

     _Finally, something goes right._ Daryl quipped, starting to make his way to the vehicle.

     He watched as both men climbed out of the car. Something began pulling at his belly as they made their way to the trunk of the vehicle.

     The wolf watched as Shane jerked the back lift door up.

     _No_. Daryl snarled incredulously.

     Reaching into the trunk, Rick and Shane hauled out a still very much alive Randall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Rick and Shane are gonna get it. So, Daryl's day didn't turn out so hot after all.
> 
> What did you think about the name game? What do YOU think the group should name him? Comment and tell me!
> 
> Ok, we wrapped up 18 Miles Out. On to Judge, Jury, Executioner!
> 
> I have good news and sad news. Sad news first: There will probably be only 4 chapters left in this story. Good news: I HAVE WRITTEN THE GREAT REVELATION! It's seriously all about to go down people. I may or may not tell you which chapter it's in when it comes up, so be on your toes!!!
> 
> Next chapter: Daryl and Shane team up and learn some new information about the group Randall was a part of. Certain death is looming over the teenager, and Dale is the only one to step up and defend the sanctity of life.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get as far into the episode as I had planned. I was going to write straight through until after the whole meeting at the end of the episode, but it decided to take it's precious time, and we didn't get that far. I guess that only works out for you guys, its looking like I might have 5 or 6 chapters left. 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me and reviewing! I usually get back to everyone who drops a comment, but sometimes there are unregistered profiles that I can't message back, so if you are one of those, know I appreciate your feedback and love your comments! <3
> 
> Onward!

Chapter Thirteen

     Daryl didn’t know exactly how he ended up the barn, jaws clamped around Randall’s stitched calf, the teenager howling in agony. The wolf just registered the fury that coursed through his veins, dictating his movements.

     “Alright, back!”

     Daryl didn’t listen to the commanding voice at first, and it took a hand fisting his scruff to pull him away from the imprisoned stranger. The wolf jerked out of Shane’s grasp, pacing angrily behind the man as Shane crouched to see level with Randall.

     “You scum-feeding son of a bitch,” he seethed at the kid. “I should just let him finish the job, rip you to shreds!” He gripped the torn and grimy collar of Randall’s shirt, bringing the whimpering prisoner in close to his face.

     “I-it wasn’t me!” Randall stammered, voice high in terror and pain. “I-I didn’t have nothin’ to do with ‘em! I didn’t do nothin’, I swear!”

     Shane shoved Randall into the wall, shaking him roughly. “So you just stood back and watched your guys _rape_ a couple little girls?” The man suddenly drew his gun, pushing it beneath the kids chin. “Naw, see, you deserve to die for that, too.”

     The kid whimpered and cried pleas and protests.

     _Damn straight!_ Daryl curled his lip, growling threateningly at the kid. He was itching to lunge for Randall’s throat, the raw instinct to rip and kill burning red in the corners of his vision.

     It had started out as a simple interrogation. Apparently, the kid knew more than they had originally thought; having went to school with Maggie and knowing the Greene family. That was why Rick and Shane had brought him back to the farm. Rick had made the call to question him further, wanting to gauge the real threat of the other group, should they still release Randall.

     In Daryl’s mind, there was only one solution staring them in the face. A solution that Rick was dancing around.

     Shane had insisted on doing the questioning, assuring Rick the he would only rough the kid up a bit. Daryl had initially followed to keep an eye on Shane, but as the interrogation progressed and the kid spilled out more information, the wolf quickly sided with the volatile man.

     Shane had caught on to the wolf’s aggression toward Randall. Daryl was stunned with the first command to “sic” the kid, but he and Shane quickly fell into an unplanned partnership.

     “I swear, I swear I haven’t done anything!” Randall repeated, though his pleas were doing nothing to placate the man and the wolf.

     Daryl watched the cold calculation on Shane’s face. The man was still posed with his gun beneath Randall’s chin, but he had yet to pull the trigger. The wolf knew Rick wanted Randall alive, but if Shane wound up completely losing his shit, there would be no love lost if the kid ended up dead.

     Shane seemed to remember what he’d said to Rick. He inhaled sharply, rising to his feet and shoving his gun back into its holster. He gave an angry grunt and swung his foot at Randall, delivering a hard kick to the kid’s shoulder. He would have nailed Randall in the face, but Randall ducked away from the combat boot in time.

     As Shane turned and stormed from the barn, Daryl gave one last snarl at the prisoner. The wolf plodded quickly after the man, slipping through the wooden doors before they slammed shut. Shane yanked the padlock tight, giving it a couple agitated jerks to secure it before pounding his fist into the door.

     Shane stood rigid, passing a hand over his mouth. The man shifted his weight and stared down at the wolf.

     “He’s not leavin’ here alive, I’ll tell you that right now,” Shane hissed, turning on his heel.

     Daryl snorted and padded after the irate man.

     Shane glanced down at the wolf as they walked.

     “You’re not too bad after all, you know that?” he said, his voice still tight with agitation, but something akin to respect glinting in his eyes. “I went out on a limb and you delivered. You really do understand a lot, don’t ya?” Shane shook his head, running a hand over his shaved scalp. “It’s a bit unreal, but I’m not gonna look a gift-horse in the mouth, ya know?” He cast a side glance at the wolf.

     _Too bad y’all don’t have the same brains. Coulda figured this shit out a week ago!_ Daryl quipped. He looked up at Shane, irked that his head only reached the man’s hip. The wolf was more-or-less happy with the trust that had finally settled between them. At least the man wouldn’t so readily take aim at him anymore.    

     The man and animal stalked into the camp. Daryl’s gaze still subconsciously slid to where his tent was set up. It’d been virtually untouched the whole time he’d been in the wolf’s body. After Daryl had been given free reign of the land, he’d tried communicating who he really was by staying near his things and carrying certain items to show the group; trying to make them connect the dots. Rick had caught him dragging around his crossbow and had scolded the wolf, taking the weapon back and returning it the Daryl’s tent. Nothing was working with these people.

     “Well?”

     _Speak of the devil._

     Rick approached them, placing his hands on his hips and settling himself into an authoritative posture.

     Shane mimicked the movement, chest huffing out and jaw tightening. “It’s a big group, Rick. Thirty men, all loaded with heavy artillery.”

     _No respect for girls or women._ Daryl snapped, lifting his lips a bit as he recalled what Randall had recounted.

     Several people began gathering around, worried faces passing around. Andrea copied the men’s stances as she listened.

     “We wouldn’t stand a chance,” Shane said, shifting his body as Rick tossed his head and let out an aggravated sigh. “They’ll shoot first and not ask questions later. They’ll take what we got.” Shane’s eyes flicked over to Lori and he nodded in her direction. “Everything.”

     Rick let out a growling huff, dragging a hand over his mouth. Anger sparked evident in his eyes, though it wasn’t directed at Shane. He clearly understood what the other man was implying.

     “He’s a threat,” Rick finally said, voice hardened. At last he seemed to be getting to the big picture.

     “What’re we gonna do?” Glenn asked.

     Daryl glanced over at the Asian, the young man’s eyes darting between the group and the farm house behind them. He was worried about what could become of Maggie. The wolf turned his attention back to Rick, seeing the man working his jaw.

     “We eliminate the threat,” Rick said, his voice almost deadpanning.

     Daryl dipped his head in agreement, giving a huff. He’d been afraid the man wouldn’t get out of his fantasy world where they could afford to let people like Randall just walk away.

     There were several murmurings between the people around them.

     “Wait, wait, wait!” Dale’s voice joined the conversation, distressed and objecting. “You can’t decide to take a man’s life, just like that!” The old man exclaimed. “No, there has to be some kind of process to work through here! You haven’t even asked everybody what they think!”

     Shane scoffed and Daryl growled lightly. _We can’t afford that, ol’ man! We gotta do what’s best for us here. Lettin’ that kid go will only spell trouble for us._

“I’ll give it the day,” Rick said, voice loud so as to carry to everybody gathered around. The soft chattering ceased and the man continued. “If anybody has anything to say, we will reconvene at sunset,” Rick turned to look towards the barn. “Whatever happens; happens.”

     His words rang with finality and nobody spoke up after that.

     As the people began to disperse, Shane walked up to Rick, placing a hand on his shoulder. Rick let his shoulders drop a fraction and some kind of silent message passed between the two.

     Rick turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Shane and the wolf standing behind.

     Daryl glanced up at Shane and was somewhat bothered by the expression on the man’s face as he stared after Rick. His eyes were cold and calculating, his jaw tight and flexing. The wolf’s fur bristled slightly as something triggered in his mind. Daryl pushed down whatever instinctive bullshit his wolf side was trying to dig up, and he turned away with a low growl.

     The morning was beautiful. The summer was tempering down to cool breezes and clear air. The atmosphere didn’t feel so heavy and humid any more. A few trees along the forest edge were beginning to change color. Autumn wasn’t too far off.

     Daryl circled the stables and horse pastures. It was important to him to keep the perimeters of the Greene property safe. Sure, the lookout stationed on the RV could see out across the fields, but nothing beat strolling along the tree line and being able to smell what was inside the woods.

     Daryl was just coming around the water pump by the barn when he caught snatches of Rick’s voice.

     “ – means somethin’ to her. Is it so bad for her to take comfort from that? You were rude and insulting. You need to think before you speak.”

     Daryl sat and waited out of the sights of Rick and Carl. Rick had a hand settled on his son’s shoulders, his tone reprimanding. The wolf cocked his head and watched further.

     “You owe Carol an apology,” Rick continued, straightening up. “You made a mistake, go fix it.”

     Carl hung his head and nodded, turning away from his dad. The boy paused, tilting his head back to Rick.

     “Is that why you’re going to kill that guy?” Carl asked, voice emotionless. “To fix a mistake?”

     _Damn, kid._ Daryl scrunched his nose and gauged Rick’s reaction. Carl’s words hadn’t exactly been accusatory, but the wolf knew Rick would probably take them that way.

     Rick’s eyes widened a fraction before he caught himself and shifted, his stance becoming defensive. “That’s different,” he said curtly, clearly indicating that the conversation was over. “Now get going.”

     Carl started on his way again.

     “Remember, think, don’t speak!” Rick called after his son, watching the boy walk away.

     Daryl snorted and shook his head. _I don’t think that kid’s gonna have problems with growin’ up._ Carl hadn’t seemed bothered by the fact that his father was about to execute a boy a few years older than himself. The wolf realized that Randall probably had about a decade on Carl, if he was Maggie’s age. But Randall didn’t look much older, nor did he act much older, than an adolescent. The kid that Hershel housed had a stronger resolve than Randall, and Jimmy was Beth’s age, a few years younger than their prisoner.

     A rumbling in the pit of the wolf’s stomach pulled him from his speculations. Growling under his breath, Daryl looked up at the sky, deciding that it must have been nearly noon.

     Sitting stock still, the wolf observed his surroundings. With Carl and Rick gone, there wasn’t any human activity around. He scented the air, finding what he was looking for.

     A squirrel was scavenging around the roots of a tall tree, not five yards away.

     Fur stiffening and muscles tensing, Daryl slowing eased himself into a crouch. Slinking low, he began his approach, probably looking more like a giant cat than a wolf.

     A flash of teeth and a short squeak later, Daryl was making quick work of the small rodent. It was messy, but the fresh blood and meat ran hot down his throat, satiating his hunger.

     Glancing up, he spotted a second squirrel. Moments later, he was trotting back to the farm house, little animal swinging from his mouth.

     Instead of going up the front porch, Daryl wound his way to the back of the house, climbing a concrete stoop and pushing open the door that was there. The door swung inward, letting him into the kitchen. The latch didn’t work properly, and the family didn’t bolt the door until after dinner, allowing the wolf to roam in and out as he pleased.

     The overwhelming aroma of baking bread filled his nose and Patricia was at the counter, preparing sandwiches.

     Daryl went straight to the woman, pushing himself onto his hind legs and balancing his front paws on the edge of the counter top. He dropped the dead squirrel on a clear patch of counter space.

     Patricia let out a short shriek, jumping in fright. Placing a hand over her chest, she exhaled heavily, staring at the wolf with wide, doe-like blue eyes.

      “Good Lord, ya scared me,” she said, letting out a breathy chuckle and brushing aside a stray curl that had bounced into her face. She reached her hands out and flicked them at the wolf. “You g’ on now, get those filthy paws offa there.”

     Daryl huffed and complied, staring up at the woman. _I just gave ya tonight’s special._ He rumbled, feeling a bit good-natured towards her. Patricia was a strong woman. She’d done right by everyone, and was gracious towards the group of stragglers, though they had indirectly been responsible for her husband’s grisly death. Daryl knew Shane’s recall of the events of the night at the school were cock-eyed and bullshit, but Patricia rested thinking Otis had died nobly.

     Patricia cast a disdainful stare at the dead squirrel. Reaching over and snatching a hand towel, she wrapped it around her hand and grabbed the squirrel’s tail. She lifted it, holding the rodent at arm’s length. She glanced back down at the wolf and then proceeded to drop the squirrel onto the wolf’s food dish, which sat against the far wall.

     “You can keep that,” Patricia said, grimacing at the dead animal.

     Daryl rolled his eyes. _It’s not like it’s gonna bite ya._

Hearing footsteps, the wolf looked to see Jimmy walking into the kitchen.

    “Here,” Patricia handed the young man two plates, each with a sandwich on it.

     “Thanks,” Jimmy replied, balancing both dishes in one hand as he grabbed a glass of water with the other.

     “How’s she doin’?” Patricia asked, leaning against the wooden island counter top.

     “She’s doin’ alright today. Mr. Greene says she can start get and go out for a walk this afternoon. So long as someone goes with her.”

     Patricia nodded and pulled her lips into a sympathetic smile. “Poor thing. Losin’ her mother like that.”

     Jimmy blew out a breath. “I just can’t believe she…” he shook his head and didn’t finish his thought. “I mean, I thought we…”

     “I know,” Patricia supplied. “Beth still cares about you. Don’t fret about that, Jimmy. It wasn’t just you she would’ve left. It would’ve been Maggie and her father, too. She must’ve known that.”

     Patricia reached a hand across the island and patted Jimmy’s arm. The boy gave the woman a half smile and sighed. “I just wish I knew how to make it better for her, ya know?”

     “Ya already are, just by being there for her,” Patricia said, pushing herself away from the counter and making a shooing motion with her hands. “Now g’on and give the girl her lunch.” She smiled, turning back to the vegetables sitting out on the chopping board.

     Jimmy grinned and walked out of the kitchen.

     Daryl had been sitting unobserved in the corner of the room, listening to the conversation.

     _Teach her to kill walkers. She’ll be fine._ He snorted and started after Jimmy. As the kid started up the staircase, the wolf’s attention was drawn to voices in the living room.

     Daryl trotted to the doorway and looked inside. Hershel and Glenn were speaking across the room, next to the windows.

     The old man was holding out his hand, his fingers curled around something. Daryl craned his neck to see what he was handing over to Glenn.

     The young Asian looked a bit dumbfounded. His mouth was open and his eyes were wider than usual.

    “I, uh,” Glenn began, nervously stuttering. “Um, wow, I don’t even know what to say. Thanks.” He reached out and took the object from Hershel.

     It was a pocket watch.

     Daryl cocked his head in confusion. He’d missed the entire conversation, but he knew watches were normally personal items. If Hershel was giving his to Glenn, the young man must’ve earned it.

     Daryl smirked. _What’s everybody bein’ all touchy-feely for?_ He shook himself, his fur shifting and waving with the movement. He took his leave, padding to the front entrance and slipping out the screen door.

     From the front porch, he gazed about the land, watching his people mill about their daily chores.

     “ _My” people._ Daryl huffed. _Nah, buncha idiots is what they are._

     And yet, he still diverted his loyalty to Rick’s authority and knew he’d fight for pretty much anyone on that farm, the Greene family included.

     _That makes me the fool._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapter sneak peak hinted at more Dale interaction, and I went into the chapter thinking I would give him more air time, but then the story just kept taking different turns and Daryl ends up listening in on Rick & Carl, Patricia & Jimmy, and then Hershel & Glenn. 
> 
> I really do like Patricia, I think she was a lovely woman. I never really thought about her until I started writing her character. Jimmy seems like a good kid as well. I just really wanted to throw in a bit of their perspective. You know. Before. Yeah.
> 
> Alright! We're about halfway through with Judge, Jury, Executioner. The next two chapters will finish it out. Review! Drop a comment! You all are lovely for reading this far! :3 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: Dale fights for the dying humanity in the group, Randall's fate is decided, and Daryl is tired of Rick's hesitation.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall's fate is decided. Or is it? Daryl hates this game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words of apology that could cover how guilty I feel for leaving you guys like this. For a second time. It's like, if you hadn't learned from the first go 'round, I just burned you all over again. :( I feel like the asshole significant other who swears to do right, only to mess up again and again.  
> Anyway, enough pity-partying, have another chapter.

     CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      It was late in the afternoon when Daryl came across Dale near the grazing pasture. The old man looked thoroughly dejected leaning against the sturdy fence, and the wolf almost felt the curl of sympathy settle in his belly. Whatever case Dale pleaded with the others, it seemed he was losing his cause.

     “We are more than what we've become,” Dale mumbled cryptically, sighing heavily.

  
      Daryl scoffed and reared up on his hind legs, hooking his paws over the fence plank. _You don’t hafta tell me that, Old Man. ‘Cept I don’t even know how I ended up like this._

  
     “Why can’t they see killing that boy is wrong?” Dale still wasn’t speaking directly to the wolf, but to the warm, autumn breeze.

     Daryl watched the horses grazing in the distance, and thought once more of how much the farm contradicted the wasteland nightmare Atlanta had been. He had never liked cities, favoring the rural quiet and cover of forest trees. He let himself feel the wind sift his fur before shaking his head and dropping back down to all four legs.

  
     “I’ll make them see,” Dale said as the wolf turned to leave.

  
     Daryl tossed the old man one last appraising look before loping away.

  
     The wolf made his rounds about the farm, securing their borders. At one point, Daryl stopped and looked as deep into the woods as he could, something cold and primitive pressing in his chest. He bared his teeth, though not seeing or smelling anything. He double checked the area, the feeling of unrest layering gently over the song of the birds.

     Daryl felt a twitch in his shoulder, and he rippled his fur, shaking the feeling off and moving on.

* * *

     Daryl sat on the porch, looking out at the golden fields. Sunset was upon the farm, and the beautiful display was countered heavily with the impending debate. T-Dog and Carol walked up the porch steps together, going inside the house where the others were meeting. The wolf could already hear Dale’s voice inside, trying to rally people to his cause to spare Randall’s life.

     Carl came tromping around the side of the house, muddy and out of breath. Daryl scrutinized the boy. Carl looked strained, glancing over his shoulder at, well, nothing. He didn’t even pay mind to the wolf as he climbed the steps and went inside.

     What’d you get into this time, kid? Daryl went to the screen door and scratched it open, making his way to the group. He saw Lori send Carl off upstairs to stay with the teenagers while the adults convened. Seeing that Rick was standing near the door frame, the wolf slipped behind the man and sat down, staying out of the main line of focus. Rick cast him a brief glance before turning his attention back to Dale, arms crossed. The lines of the man’s face were drawn taught as he listened.

     Not very many of the people were willing to speak up. Shane adamantly fought Dale on the subject. Carol, surprisingly, threw in her two cents, even if it was a cast of indifference. Hershel said he just wanted the young man gone, and Daryl could tell his conscience was bothering him, though the farmer made no motion to defend Randall. Hershel’s word would’ve been a big swaying point with Rick, had the man decided that Randall should live. Without the farmer’s resistance, Daryl knew Randall was a dead man.

     “I guess it’s just Glenn and I, then,” Dale said, his voice full of disdain.  
   

     The wolf slid his gaze to Glenn and raised his brow at the guilty wince the young man made.  
 _Or not._ Daryl quipped.

     When Dale registered Glenn’s response, he looked betrayed. “Not you, too. Glenn!” The older man protested.

      “Well, I-,” Glenn lifted his shoulders in a shrug, his eyes wandering. “I do think he’s a danger. I’m sorry!”  
     

     Dale gave an exasperated groan, throwing his hands in the air. “This is a young man’s life we’re dealing with! We don’t just decide to kill him because we don’t know what else to do!” The man was nearing his limit, his voice raising in a final round. “Please!” His pleaded, “Let’s just do the right thing!”

     Silence fell in the room, most everybody studying their feet or the art on the wall. Rick was studying each person in turn, his eyes flicking around the room, looking for any other objections.

     Andrea stepped forward, drawing attention. “He’s right,” she said, lifting her chin and looking Dale in the eye. “We should find another way.”  
Dale looked extremely grateful, but Andrea’s word didn’t hold much swing. Nobody else joined her.

     “Anybody else?” Rick asked, and the wolf knew the meeting was about to end.

     When nobody spoke up, Rick straightened, nodding to Shane.

     Dale made a disgusted noise and turned, storming from the room, and then from the house, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

     The wolf watched as Glenn made his way over to where Hershel and Maggie were seated, hands in his pockets and head ducked. Carol and Andrea exited the house together. Rick was speaking in low tones with Lori, before squeezing her arm and turning toward the front door, Shane close behind.

      Daryl rose to his feet and nosed his way onto the front porch, taking the steps quickly and briskly trotting to keep up with Rick and Shane.

      The wolf followed the men as they made their way to the barn. The sun had set, the streaks of pink and purple faded into gray.

      _The end of a day, the end of a life_. Daryl reflected.

      When they had reached the barn, Shane pulled the door open with a jerk, grabbing up a camping lantern that had been sitting nearby.

     Rick picked up a second lantern and paused, only for a second, taking a breath and following Shane into the darkening structure.

     Shane set his lantern to the side, Rick placing his several feet away, spreading the light evenly in the area they were in.

     Shane walked over to where Randall was huddled, bound and blindfolded. The kid whimpered when the man gripped him harshly by the arm and pulled him up, dragging him to the center of the barn.

     “Shut up,” Shane kicked the back of Randall’s knee in, forcing the kid to kneel.

     Rick’s jaw was working and his hand twitched. With a fluid movement, he had his Python out and raised.

     “Do you have any final words?” Rick asked, voice hard.

      Randall let out a choked moan. “Please, please, don’t kill me!” he sobbed. He was panting hard.

     The wolf narrowed his eyes. The kid’s face was flushed red and sweat had his hair clinging to his head. He actually looked a bit sick. Daryl shook his head. Anybody in that position would be sick.

     Rick’s lips pulled back in a determined snarl as he took a step forward, leveling the gun with the kid’s head. An ominous clicking split the air as he pulled back the hammer.   

     And then he merely stood there.

     Daryl bared his teeth. _Come on, finish this_. He rumbled softly.

     Shane crossed his arms and stared hard at Rick.

     Rick’s hand faltered, gun lowering a fraction. He set his mouth determinedly and corrected his aim again.

     The wolf could see the war raging on the man’s face. The mediaeval-ness of this whole ordeal settled heavy on everyone’s shoulders, but in this new world, these things had to be done.

     Daryl’s nose twitched and his head swiveled to the barn door. He gave a growl when he saw Carl standing there. _Dammit, kid_.

     “Do it, Dad,” Carl said, causing both Rick and Shane to startle. Both men turned to stare at the kid. “Do it,” he repeated.

     Rick lowered his gun, surprise evident in his eyes. It quickly morphed into anger.

     “Get him out of here,” he hissed, turning to Shane.

      Shane’s lips tightened in irritation as he strode towards Carl.

     “Go on,” he said, his voice curt. He gripped Carl’s arm and pushed him from the barn. “Get back to the camp,” he snapped when Carl didn’t comply immediately.

     When the kid turned tail and headed back from where he came, Shane walked back over to Rick.

     “Go ahead,” he said, glaring down at the whimpering prisoner.

     Rick shook his head, backing away from Randall.

     “Rick,” Shane warned, his voice edging on frustration and anger.

      _Don’t you dare back down now._ Daryl growled at Rick as well.

     “No,” Rick shook his head again. “I won’t do this.”

     Shane threw his hands up in exasperation. “No, we have to do this, this is the only way!”

     “We have other options,” Rick shot back. “We will not resort to execution.”

     The wolf shook his head and snorted, noticing Shane’s hand twitch for his own gun. Apparently, Rick noticed the movement as well.

     “That’s final, Shane.” The hardness in Rick’s voice seemed to silence Shane’s argument. The other man shook his head and stepped back, glaring at Rick.

     Daryl snarled at Rick, teeth bared and hackles rising. No, we don’t have other options, you know that! Not unless you want sentence the rest of us to die! The wolf glanced to Randall, making up his mind. He bolted forward, jowls stretching, ready to snap around the kid’s throat.

     “No!”

     A hand catching his scruff stopped him mid-stride. With a painful yank on the loose fur and skin, the wolf was thrown back.

     Daryl righted himself, eyes flashing with a wild fury and teeth snapping. He growled at Rick, stalking forward again.

     “I said NO!” Rick raged, voice taking on a grating, savage quality uncharacteristic for the man.

     All thoughts for blood were suddenly replaced with something like nausea roiling in the wolf’s gut.

     Daryl’s ears flattened against his skull as his body shrank to the ground. His bushy tail tucked between his hind legs. An apologetic whine tried to squeeze from his throat, but he pulled it back. His mind was scrabbling frantically between the instinct to submit and his will to retort.

     “Get out!” Rick snarled at him, arm snapping out and pointing to the barn entrance.

      Daryl flinched at the movement. Staying close to the ground, he crept around the man, keeping his eyes on him. As soon as he was clear, he bolted from the barn into the cold night air.

     The fresh, crisp breeze helped clear the swirling emotions that clouded his mind. Upsetting Rick brought on a guilt that pressed heavy over his chest.

      Daryl reached the camp’s perimeter and began to pace angrily. He had no reason to feel guilty; he was doing what was right by the group! He pulled his lips and growled in the direction of the barn.

     Shane stomped out of the barn first, heading off for the fence instead of the house. Rick came out moments later, shutting and locking the doors once more. He made his way back toward the camp.

     Seeing the man again brought back the tightening feeling in the wolf’s stomach. He refused to lower himself again, but as Rick got closer and closer, his bravado began seeping away.

     Tail curving low, he ducked his head as the man approached.

     Rick looked like he was going to ignore the wolf, but as he was passing by, he suddenly stopped.

     Daryl winced, but the man didn't look down at him. Rick’s fists were clenching though, and he knew he was about to be reprimanded.

     “Don’t you dare do that again,” Rick’s voice was low and threatening, his eyes flashing down to the wolf’s.

     Daryl wanted to growl. He wanted to bare his teeth and rear his head. But something else more primal and instinctive was pushing into his mind until he found himself lowering his body to the ground. His shoulders twisted to the side, and he didn't realize what he was doing until the movement finished traveling through his back and hindquarters. 

     The wolf pulled his front paws close to his chest and offered his underside to the man.

     Daryl was frozen with anxiety and anticipation. He knew Rick wouldn't react violently toward him, so why was his body betraying him like this? He had an innate sense to placate the man’s anger and disappointment. His wolfish nature insisted there be a hierarchy in place, and he recognized Rick as the alpha figure of their group.

     Rick exhaled sharply and continued on his way, oblivious to the gravity of the body language expressed by the wolf.

     Something cleared in Daryl’s head and he rolled himself to his feet, baring his teeth at the man’s retreating form.

 _Asshole._ Daryl growled. His heart was hammering and he was furious with Rick for forcing him into such a vulnerable position. _He didn’t force nothin’._  

     Another side of his mind argued. He snorted and moved away from the camp. He didn't want to be anywhere near Rick at the moment. He trotted to the farm house front porch, hopping up the steps. Daryl didn't go inside the house, the inner door had already been closed and he was above scratching on the wood to get someone’s attention. He settled himself next to the rocking chairs, facing out toward the property so he could keep an eye on the place. He figured he’d do his rounds later.

      _Well, nothing else can get screwed up tonight_. Daryl huffed out, laying his chin across his front legs.

     That was when a frantic scream split the inky night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. It's a little bit shorter than previous chapters, but I'm hoping to build up length again. If you have been following since the beginning, thank you so much for giving me another chance! I can't promise anything, but I think I'm getting my Walking Dead groove back on. After that mid-season finale, I had to write SOMEthing.... good gracious.  
> Much love,  
> MITSOM
> 
> Next chapter: Much heartbreak.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sooo, I'm back with another chapter. I'm gearing up to mass-watch the season 5 marathon tomorrow on AMC in prelude to the FINALE! I can't believe TWD has come to the close of it's fifth season. When I first started outlining this story, season 3 was still airing. Shows how bad I've been with updating. XD What a ride.  
> Anywho, thanks for sticking with me, I do love you all and hate that I can't be more consistent. Enjoy! And as always,
> 
> MUCH LOVE!
> 
> Mitsom

     Daryl heard the shout and whipped his head up, rising quickly to his feet and searching in the direction of the cry. The moon washed over the pastures with an eerie light, helping his vision. He quickly narrowed in on the source of the commotion; two figures grappling with each other in the distant field.

     There was another scream, and Daryl suddenly realized it was Dale’s voice.

     Giving a surprised bark, the wolf dog sprang over the porch steps and flew across the field, his paws barley brushing the ground. As he shot passed the camp, he half-way categorized Rick’s shout for help, and knew the man wouldn’t be far behind.

     Daryl’s mind raced as his night vision clearly outlined the attacking figure of a walker that was leaning over Dale, the older man struggling hard with his assailant.

     While he was still at least ten feet out, Daryl gathered his hind legs and launched himself the rest distance, crashing into the walker with a roaring snarl. The momentum behind his leap had the wolf and reanimated corpse tumbling over the ground.

      Daryl was immediately on his feet again, driving into the walker’s throat, ripping out the rotten flesh. His attack was so viscous, and the body so decomposed, the neck promptly snapped apart.  Daryl drug the head away from the body and with a mighty fling of his head, tossed it away from him and Dale.  His chest heaved and his mouth was open, baring teeth and giving clipped growls with every panted breath. He scanned his surroundings to make sure there weren’t any other walker’s nearby. His gut clenched at seeing a body, but he quickly realized it was the torn carcass of one of Hershel’s cows.

     “Dale!” Far off voices were getting nearer. Someone began screaming for Hershel as well.

     The cries made Daryl turn his attention back to the old man, and he bound to his side, giving an anxious whine. There was a gaping wound in Dale’s stomach, guts partially pulled out. The horror of the injury made the wolf’s own belly roil with nausea.

     _Shit! No! No-no-no-no-no-no!_ Daryl whimpered softly, panicked gaze swinging between the pained expression on Dale’s face and his stomach. _Help’s comin’, man, jus’ hang on._

     Daryl’s gaze flicked to the walker’s corpse, and the wolf-dog barked in anger. _Where tha hell did that thing come from?_

     Dale had obviously left the farmhouse in a mood, probably walking the property to blow off steam. But they were out in open pasture, how had the old man not seen the walker? Daryl looked at the half-eaten cow once more, trying to deduce how it factored in. It looked as though the walker had been eating from the animal first.

     But where had it come from?

     There was a flurry of blonde hair and Andrea crashed to her knees on the ground next to Dale. The wolf leapt back, pacing furiously while the rest of the group came running up to the scene, all giving gasps of shock.

     “Oh my god!” Andrea said repeatedly, acting almost afraid to touch the man. “Do something!” she yelled behind her. The wolf looked back to see Hershel and Maggie jogging toward the gathering group.

     While the vet-turned-doctor went and knelt beside Dale, Daryl caught the gurgling rasps of the walker’s head behind him. Shane heard it as well, and he quickly strode passed the wolf. He started when he saw the decapitated body of the walker, and finished the job by putting his knife through the skull that had rolled a good ways away. He turned an appraising look to the wolf-dog before rejoining the group that surrounded Dale.

     “Hurry! Let’s get him back to the house!” Rick’s voice rang out, bodies starting to rally towards Dale.

     “There is no way we can move him with a wound like this,” Hershel countered grimly, casting a glance over his shoulder at the group.

     “Then we’ll go get your medical bag and-“

     “There’s nothing that can be done for him.” Hershel quickly cut Rick’s train of thought off, gesturing at Dale’s mauled torso. “I am truly sorry.”

     Rick shifted his weight, placing one hand on his hip and dragging the other over his jaw in helpless grief.

     Andrea gripped Dale’s hand and brought it to her cheek, tears flooding her eyes and trailing fast down her face. She sobbed quietly, making soft sounds of denial.

     Daryl didn’t miss the look exchanged between Hershel and Rick, and then Rick and Shane. Rick seemed to be seeking some kind of permission. He finally nodded, pulling his gun and stepping forward. Daryl understood what had to happen. What always had to happen.

      The wolf whined again, moving uneasily.

     As Rick pointed the gun at Dale’s face, people began turning away, not wanting to watch their friend die. Lori clung to Carl protectively, turning aside to block his view of the horrific scene. Even Shane backed up a few steps, looking away.

     “Oh my god,” Andrea seemed to be at a loss of anything to say. But she slowly stood and turned away, too upset to watch what was about to unfold. The old man’s hand dropped from her grip and Daryl watched as his fingers flexed and clenched over empty air.

     But Rick kept standing there, staring at Dale. He didn’t make a move to pull the trigger.

     Familiarity played out as Daryl looked up at the man and saw several conflicting emotions at war on Rick’s face. They’d never put down a member of their own team that was still alive before. Sophia, Amy; they’d both been dead when they were shot. Daryl had tried to get them to put down Jim, but the group left him on his own to die instead.

     The situation with Randall was still fresh on Daryl’s mind, and sudden grief and anger coursed through him at the thought of Rick killing their own friend, while the stranger threatening their safety got to live.

     Dale’s breath was labored and pained, and Daryl couldn’t take hearing it in the crystal clear definition his wolf ears forced on him. He went to Rick and scratched at the man’s knee.

     Rick seemed to snap from whatever trance he was in and met Daryl’s eyes. The wolf gazed solemnly back at him.

      _Do it, Rick. He’s sufferin’ real bad. You know he ain’t comin’ back from this_. Daryl tried to convey. _Not alive anyway_.

     Daryl turned and lowered himself next to Dale, nose brushing the old man’s shoulder.

     _Sorry, brother_. He whined softly.

      Rick knelt beside the wolf-dog, letting out a shaky breathe. He gripped the animal by the scruff of his shoulder. Daryl willingly let Rick feed from his strength, sitting up and being a solid presence at the man’s side.

     Rick lowered the gun to Dale’s head and the old man nodded weakly, accepting his fate.

     There were choked sobs from several people behind them.

     The gun shot had Daryl flinching, sensitive ears ringing. He bowed his head.

     The arm that had been gripping his shoulder slipped around his chest in a constricting hold. Pulling the wolf closer, Rick buried his face into the back of the furry neck.

     Daryl gave an uncomfortable whine and wriggled a little, but Rick didn’t let up. Daryl could feel the man shaking slightly. He fell still and Shane came up to set a hand on Rick’s shoulder.

     A moment later he was released quite suddenly and Rick pushed himself to his feet, ambling over to his family, hugging Lori to him with one arm and wrapping Carl in the other.

     An empty feeling settled in where he was being held so tightly, and he shook himself. As the others seemed to be drawing back from Dale’s body, Daryl stayed where he was. It was a new feeling for him, the grief that was clenching hard inside him, making it hard to move. Maybe it was just the way the animal side of him wanted to react, but he felt like he needed to let it out. His head tipped back and his nose pointed straight in the air.   

     A single, mournful howl broke from his throat and he lowered himself, resting his chin over Dale’s bloody, unmoving chest.

     “We - we can’t leave his body here,” Andrea’s broken voice floated softly to his ears.

     Hershel spoke next. “I’ve got some tarp we can wrap him in; you all don’t have to bury him tonight.”

     “Thank you,” Rick said, his voice tired and weary.

     They began filing away, back towards the house.

      Daryl didn’t know how long he’d been lying next to Dale, but eventually he heard the rumble of the old truck’s motor approach. It stopped nearby. Doors opened and slammed, and there was a rustle of rough fabric. Daryl knew they were going to be moving the body in a moment.

     “Come on, buddy,” T-Dog said, voice strained. A hand fell on his back and he jerked up, stalking a few feet away before facing them. It was T-Dog, Shane, and Andrea who were back. He watched as they carefully shifted Dale onto the tarp, folding it over him and wrapping the ends tight. They then lifted the old man’s body into the bed of the truck.

     He was suddenly aware of eyes watching him. He gazed back at Shane, who was studying him with a calculating stare. The man broke contact as T-Dog and Andrea went to get back in the truck.

     Shane swung himself up next to Dale’s body and found Daryl’s eyes again. He whistled and patted the tailgate.

     The wolf’s ears sprang up at the sharp sound. He padded forward and leapt onto the truck bed, avoiding contact with the wrapped body.

     He settled as near to the edge of the open tailgate as he could without falling off. He sat rigid and stared out into the night, not quite knowing what he was watching for.

     A hand brushed his shoulder blades, and he lifted his lips at Shane, letting the man know his touch wasn’t wanted.

     “Ya ripped that walker’s head off,” Shane stated, fingers scratching lightly into the wolf’s fur. His words certainly weren’t a normal conversation starter. “Don’t know how you have it in ya to kill like that, but that was real good.”

     Daryl turned his face to Shane. He hadn’t expected a complement about that, he himself had pushed the walker out of his mind. He didn’t like the way Shane was watching him, and shrugged his hand off his back, growling a little.

      Shane chuckled, but it was a dark sound, definitely not of mirth. “We make quite the team, you know.” Shane looked over the edge of the truck, away from Daryl. “If you’d get over Rick, I could use the loyalty. We could help each other out, ya know?” Shane turned his hard stare back at the wolf. “Things like this-,” he paused and rolled his eyes upward, sighing heavily. “Wouldn’t happen.”

     Shane’s eyes glinted strangely, one part grief, five parts crazy. Daryl was uncomfortable now, hoping they’d reach the camp soon. He really didn’t like one-on-one time with Shane.

     Shane narrowed his eyes. “You know, I believed Rick; that you were smart and all, and it really is incredible. You seem to understand and try to respond to what we say. But that can’t be right,” he paused, “I mean, you’re just a stupid animal.”

      Daryl actually snarled at Shane, and then he realized he had just taken bait. _Damn it, that was text-book fishing ya idiot._ He chided himself

     Shane sly smile grew. “That’s what I thought. See, I’ve been watching you for a while now, Wolf, and I’ve seen some interesting things. The way you treat everyone ‘round here, the way you put that doll on Sophia’s grave, and how you respond to every damn word we say. It didn’t make sense at first, and hell, it still doesn’t,” Shane shrugged. “But, we haven’t seen Dixon in two weeks, and since day one, you’ve been around. I didn’t see it until now, and it’s crazy,” he chuckled again. “But I think the definition of “crazy” was thrown out the window with the dead started up an’ walking.” His stare bore into Daryl.

     The wolf shifted with baited nerves under the man’s scrutiny. _Please get at what I think yer gettin’ at._

     “Dixon,” Shane’s voice was demanding and confident.

       _Holy hell!_ Daryl actually barked, staggering to his feet on the moving truck bed.

      “That’s you in there, isn’t it?” Shane persisted smugly.

      _Yeah! It’s me!_ He let out a pathetic whine and pawed at Shane’s knee. He didn’t even care about the excited shiver that ran down his back and caused his bushy tail to wag enthusiastically. He felt like he could lick the man, and that thought completely disgusted him.

      Shane chuckled and placed his hands on either side of the wolf’s neck. He studied the animal’s eyes a moment longer before shaking his head.

      “I’ll be damned,” Shane muttered, “It really is you.”

     Daryl scratched harder at the man’s leg, humming low. _Yes! Finally!_

     Daryl felt the truck slowing a bit, hearing the crank window on T-Dog’s side roll down.

     “Any problems back there?” T-Dog called.

     Daryl barked excitedly at the man driving the truck. _He got it! You guys know!_ He swung his head between the man in the side-view mirror and Shane.

     “Nah, we’re good back here,” Shane replied, chuckling.

     Daryl furrowed his brow. _What the hell, man? Tell him!_ He stared hard at Shane, trying to see what the man could be thinking.

     Shane glanced back towards T-Dog. The driver’s window was still down, a brown elbow propped against the sill, sticking half-way out the window.

      Daryl barked a warning to Shane. The man held up a hand and shushed the wolf.

     “Calm down,” Shane hissed. “Give me a minute to think this over.”

     Daryl jerked back out of the man’s grasp. _Think what over?!_ He growled. _You tell them it’s me and I’ll respond accordingly! I’ll jump through your damn hoops! You’re not crazy, it really is me here!_

     Shane shushed him again, eyes flicking to the truck cab. The man’s eyes narrowed as he stared back at the wolf-dog.

     “Put your right foot over your nose,” he said, waiting as Daryl did what he asked.

      Daryl felt like an idiot, but he hooked his paw over his snout and raised his eyes back at Shane.

     Shane swore and covered his mouth with one hand, dragging it over his jaw. While he had initially been smug about discovering Daryl’s identity, now he just looked thoughtful and a little troubled.

     “I can’t bring this up to them yet.”

     Daryl reared back and snarled.

     Shane frowned, and didn’t look very apologetic. He glanced quickly through the truck cab’s back window.

     “I can’t risk appearing certifiable,” he muttered defensively. “I’m still fighting for control of this group; I won’t give Rick any more ammunition to use against me.”

     _I don’t care about your shitty power play, you bastard!_ Daryl was flashing most of his teeth, barely reigning in the instinct to rip into the man.

     “Be loyal to me,” Shane pressed on, surprising the wolf into silence. “I’ll tell them, I will, just do as I say for the time being. Show loyalty to me, and I swear I’ll tell them.”

     _Your word means shit to me._ Daryl growled, feeling disgusted and somewhat betrayed. He had steadily been losing faith in Shane since they’d left Atlanta, and blackmailing the wolf-dog put the nail in the man’s proverbial coffin in Daryl’s book.

     Snarling once more for good measure, Daryl turned and leapt from the moving truck bed, landing heavily and stumbling to catch his footing before running in the opposite direction.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________         

     It was Rick who found him sometime later, curled up and sulking next to his oak tree. The man approached, crouching next to him and sighing deeply. Daryl didn’t respond to the hand that settled heavily on his head and stroked down his neck.

     “Thank you, boy,” Rick murmured. “That was brave, what you did to save Dale.”

     Daryl kept his head on the ground, but cast his eyes to the man. _What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, Grimes, I didn’t get there in time. I failed the old man, jus’ like I failed that lil’ girl._ A sad whine escaped his throat. _And ya won’t ever figure out it’s me here, ‘cause Shane’s the only one batshit enough to come up with the idea._ He sighed heavily.

      The hand firmly massaged behind his left ear, and he welcomed the comforting gesture.

     His eyes went to Rick’s free hand and noticed it holding a rag. Rick dipped the cloth in the water pail that was sitting nearby, gently lifting Daryl’s chin in his other hand. The man began wiping down his snout with the wet rag.

     Seeing the rag come away stained with a brown-red he knew to be the walker’s blood, he didn’t move. He snuffed out a few times as water dripped into his nose, but he was too tired to complain.

     After Rick had finished, he set the rag aside and just sat there for a moment, hands combing through the wolf’s thick fur.

     He stood and stepped away, looking back at Daryl.

     “Come on, you can come back to the tents,” the man held out his hand to him. “Carl would like the company.”

     Daryl didn’t move from where he lay. He watched the hand and then tilted his eyes up to meet the man’s inviting stare.

     _Just leave me alone, Rick._ Daryl sighed and averted his gaze and settled his head on his paws, his heart weighing him down heavily.

     “Come on,” Rick tried again, patting his leg in a final attempt to persuade the wolf dog.

     Daryl turned his head so Rick was just in his peripheral vision, still ignoring him. He heard Rick sigh and walk away.

     Daryl felt the sorrow clinch around him so tight, he had the overwhelming urge to throw his head back and howl it out again. But the rational side of his brain kicked in, and he knew he couldn’t make that much noise, not with the chance that there might be more walkers around. He settled for letting it out quietly, whimpering into the darkness over Dale. The old man hadn’t really gotten under his skin like some of the others in the group did.

     He almost didn’t hear the foot falls that approached a second time just a little while later. He swung his head up and saw Carl coming to him, tear tracks dried on his face and eyes puffy from crying.

     Without a word, the boy fell next to him and wrapped his arms around the wolf’s shoulders, burying his face into his neck.

     _Kid, really? This is what yer mama is for._ Daryl curled his lip and tried to shrug Carl off, but the kid clung to him.

     “What am I gonna do?”

     Daryl stilled at the boy’s muffled voice and cocked his head at him. _What’re you goin’ on about, boy?_

     “It’s all my fault!” Carl was crying again, still not speaking louder than a whisper. “It’s all my fault.”

     The kid was obviously distraught, and Daryl didn’t really know what to do for him. He couldn’t pat his back and tell him not to worry or anything like that. So he simply laid there and let Carl press close to him.

     The warm wind blew, ruffling his fur and he stiffened. Something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t pinpoint what he was sensing, but he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep that night.

     The kid’s cries eventually quieted, and Daryl noticed his breaths getting deeper.

     _Ah, hell, kid, don’t you fall asleep on me!_ Daryl grunted and nosed Carl’s side.

     Carl mumbled something and slid further to the ground, leaning more on the wolf than before, tangling his fingers in the thick fur.

     _Great._ Daryl winced as Carl unknowingly gripped his fur in an unforgiving hold. _Dammit, kid!_

     But he didn’t move. He kept a silent vigil while Carl hung on to him. Hopefully Rick or Lori would come looking for their son sooner than later.

     Either way, it was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat is half-way out of the bag! Daryl can FINALLY rest easy knowing somebody knows who he actually is! ... *not* :P Poor Daryl, I don't think he's going to stand for Shane's shit much longer.
> 
> Drop a review, I love hearing ya'll's thoughts and comments!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dale is laid to rest and tensions are high. Daryl might get himself into trouble... Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys........ I'm back.  
> So, this thing has been sitting unfinished, haunting me for the last year. I can taste the ending, but am just not there. The ending for Part One anyway... I swear, when my mind opened this can of worms four and a half years ago, I didn't know it'd turned into a bucket of snakes...  
> I've loved every comment, kudo and bookmark you guys give me! It's been a wonderful ride! Thanks so much for your patience, or general interest.
> 
> This is not beta read, and hardly proof-read. I just really wanted to get this up and off my chest!  
> Dear reader, please enjoy, and if you're new to this train, know it's gotten lost many times!
> 
> Much LOVE,  
> MITSOM

     True to his speculation, Daryl didn’t sleep at all during the night. Every rustling leaf or snapping twig got his ears perking forward and his nose twitching. In the pre-dawn hour, the wolf-dog finally rose to his feet and trotted into the misty fog that had fallen. His hyper-vigilant mind worked a mile a minute as he patrolled the farmland, head swinging to-and-fro.

     He walked the cattle pastures, the cows wary of the prowling wolf. Daryl paid the bovine no mind as be passed, making a beeline for the fence along the woods. He didn’t cross into the forest; he merely stood and inhaled deeply through his nose. He sifted through scents, determining there was no threat coming from that direction. He continued along the fencing, watching for anything out of the ordinary.

     The sky eventually began to lighten and turn pink, the mist dissipating with the arrival of the sun.

     A woman’s shout had Daryl’s head snapping up in attention, his ears swiveling frantically. His heart froze in his chest, memories of the night before plaguing his mind. His heart began to pound, and when a second yell sounded, the wolf bolted towards it.

     Daryl leapt a fence and came across the southern-most field of the Greene’s land. The wolf recognized Andrea right away, watching as she swung an ax into a walker’s head.

     _Where do these freaks keep comin’ from?_ Daryl growled angrily, trying to quell the rising panic that was threatening to close his throat.

     T-Dog and Shane were nearby as well, Daryl realized as he approached the scene. There were five walkers, all having straggled out of the woods it seemed like. Feeling the adrenaline of the moment mix with the emotions of the night before, Daryl let out a great snarl as he leapt at the back of one of the wandering corpses. Hooking his paws over the shoulders, Daryl clamped his jowls around the nape of the walker’s neck. The wolf dug and tore until the body collapsed in a series of gurgles and hisses.

     “Back up!” T-Dog exclaimed, and Daryl retreated as the man hammered down onto the fallen walker’s head.

     Pacing to the side, Daryl could see that all of the walkers had been neutralized and de-brained.

     “He makes a great habit of showin’ up when these things are around,” T-Dog’s hand dropped down on the wolf’s head.

     _Get yer paws offa me,_ Daryl growled, pulling his head back. His blood still thrummed with the thrill of the fight, and he didn’t appreciate the touch.

     Nobody followed up on T-Dog’s comment, but the wolf meet Shane’s shrewd gaze with hostility and a nice set of bloodied fangs.

     “Let’s get these stacked and burned,” Andrea said, leaning down to grab hold of one of the bodies.

     Baring his teeth once more, Daryl slowly turned away before loping off back towards the farmhouse.

     ______________________________________________________________________

     As the sun rose, it was turning out to be a beautiful day for a funeral. Back out next to Sophia’s, Annette’s, and Shawn’s graves, a forth bed of dirt lined with garden stones was all that remained of Dale Horvath. At least the old man went out with some dignity, and not as a flesh-craving monster. The other three buried there had each died two grizzly deaths.

     Daryl sat in stoic silence as Rick said some nice things about Dale, and tried turn over a new leaf with some rousing words of “fixing” the group as Dale had wanted. The wolf rolled his eyes. Rick couldn’t use a dead man as an excuse to not make hard calls. If anything else, Dale’s death should’ve been a wake-up call for all of them to how dangerous the world was these days.

     There were tears and the tension over the group felt heavier than in the previous days. Something was bound to snap sooner or later, the wolf observed. There were too many conflicting views for every person to get along.

     Daryl knew his loyalty had been to Rick, but with the man's hare-brained refusal to accept responsibility and make solid calls, the wolf was growing rebellious. If somebody didn't step up and take complete control, people were going to keep dying like Dale.

     The group began trickling off, Beth, Jimmy, and Patricia heading back towards the house. Maggie stayed by Glenn's side, offering her support. Daryl huffed at the sweet display. Carol had been standing farthest off, and slipped away quickly. Andrea, T-Dog, and Shane had come straight from dealing with the walkers in the field. Andrea left making the excuse of checking the fire, and T-Dog followed her. Lori had her arm around Carl, turning him to guide him back to the campsite. Carl cast a look back at Dale's grave, and Daryl noted the haunted look in the boy's eyes.

     The wolf felt a wave of exhaustion roll over him, and he let himself yawn, his jaw stretching wide. The night before, the boy had slept on top of the wolf for maybe ten minutes before Rick had walked back over, his gaze soft and sad. The man had carefully extracted the boy's arms from around the wolf, prying the little fingers from their grip in Daryl's fur. Rick had placed his hand against the wolf's face, gently scratching beneath his ear, before standing up, cradling his son to him, and walking back to his family's tent.

     Daryl shook himself, reviving stiff muscles. He felt a strange prickling sensation along the back of his neck, and his hackles rose. He turned his head to see Shane watching him from a distance. Not feeling gracious in the least, Daryl flashed his teeth maliciously at the man. Shane merely smirked and walked away. Fresh anger rolled through the wolf, making him tense and ready to spring. He needed to get Rick to figure this out.

     Hershel stepped his way over to Rick, voice low and sympathetic. He expressed a generic condolence.

     "The weather is going to be change in the next few weeks," the old man said, looking up to the sky. "My conscience won't let me keep you all in the cold, 'specially your child and pregnant wife." He smiled grimly. "There are plenty of empty rooms now. You are welcome to move up to the house."

     Daryl cocked his head to the side at the man's allowance. Rick, likewise, had several emotions playing across his face.

     "That's under the condition," Hershel pressed on, his voice hardening. "Shane is not to step foot inside."

     _Bastard deserves it._ Daryl gave a soft growl, his lips pulling up in a sardonic grin that felt weird over canine teeth. He got to his feet and trotted over to Hershel and Rick, his tail floating behind him in a haughty wave. He stopped at Rick’s knees and tilted his head to look up at the man.

     Rick looked surprised, almost taken aback by Hershel’s offering. “Hershel,” the man began, trailing off for a moment. “Thank you! This means so much to us.”

     Daryl watched as Hershel nodded, the old man’s eyes blinking wearily. “I should have let you in sooner. As it stands, you all may come tomorrow; the girls are still getting the rooms aired and rearranged.” He gave a slow gesture to Dale’s grave. “I am sorry for your loss.” With those words, Hershel turned and began to walk away, his shoulders a little more stooped than usual. Maggie and Glenn joined the old man, wandering back to the farmhouse.

     Rick sighed heavily. One of the man’s hands drifted to the wolf’s head, and Daryl let the contact happen. Distracted fingers combed slowly through the fur at his neck.

     Remembering the harsh words from the man regarding the Randall incident, Daryl felt the residue of guilt flit around his chest. Looking down at Dale’s grave to preoccupy his mind, Daryl focused on the loose dirt sifting beneath his paws. The wolf drew an aimless line with his nails, watching as the earth traced easily. He stared hard at the line, and an idea slammed into his head like a runaway freight train.

     _Holy shit!_ Daryl barked out loud at the sudden revelation, making Rick jump. _Spell yer name for him, ya big dumbass!_ _Why the hell haven’t ya though ‘bout this before?_

     Hurriedly, Daryl began scraping his paw along the ground, his non-opposable toes making any sort of neat dexterity impossible.

     “Whoa, whoa!” Rick exclaimed. “Stop that!”

     A leg pushed at Daryl’s side, and he pulled back, snarling. _No! Yer gonna get this, Grimes!_ He continued his hasty scratching in the dirt.

     “No! Quit digging!” Rick commanded sternly, a hand fisting the wolf’s scruff. “You’re not gonna dig on the graves.”

 _I ain’t digging up the graves!_ Daryl actually felt a whine bubble up out of his throat as he pulled against the man’s grip.

     Rick dragged the wolf away from the makeshift graveyard. Daryl twisted frantically, yipping pathetically when the fur and skin at his neck was wrung a little too tightly. The wolf felt his tail tuck tight, remembering Rick’s manhandling the night before.

     Releasing the wolf with a forward thrust of his hand, Rick made a shooing motion. “G’on!” he scolded, placing his other hand on his hip.

     There was no loose dirt around where they were now, and Daryl barked angrily. _Dammit, Rick, get yer head outta yer ass and listen for once!_

     Rick stood firm, his posture towering and sure. “What’s gotten in ta you?” Rick scolded, as if talking to an errant child.

     Daryl reared up and slammed his front paws back into the ground. Maybe he was acting like a child, stamping his feet and complaining. He threw his head and snorted in frustration.

     Rick shook his head, moving as if to head back to the camp. “G’on,” he said, waving his hand at the wolf. “I don’t want to see you over here again.”

     Daryl scoffed, a coughing noise that made him want to sneeze. _Fine, ya Jackass, I’ll go dig in yer garden!_ The wolf barked and turned his back on Rick and flagged his tail to tell the man to go screw himself.

     Trotting to the main drive and off towards the campsite, Shane’s voice pricked the wolf’s ears. The man was speaking with someone, and initially Daryl wasn’t going to give it the time of day, but Carl’s voice made him pause.

     “I just wanted to be like you and dad,” the boy was saying. “I couldn’t protect Sophia, and you wouldn’t teach me how to shoot, so I took this and went out to the woods to learn how myself.”

     The wolf cocked his head. He was all for letting the kid learn to shoot, but an unexperienced kid with a gun was bad news. He wasn’t in view of the two yet, and crept through the grove of trees they were concealed in.

     “Where did you get this gun, Carl?” Shane asked in a serious tone.

     “I found it in the bag on Daryl’s motorcycle,” Carl explained. “Since he’s not coming back, I thought nobody would notice.”

     _You in my stuff, kid?_ Daryl growled softly, laying close to the ground to further hide himself.

     “The walker that killed Dale,” Carl pressed on hurriedly, anxiously. “I saw it in the woods. I tried to shoot it! But I missed it and it came back and killed him!”

     Daryl took in the information, imagining the bumbling kid with his gun. He cursed himself and his ridiculous body.

     “Ok, ok,” Shane spoke quickly, placating the boy. “It wasn’t your fault. No, listen to me, Carl, look here. It wasn’t your fault, alright? It was an accident that had nothing to do with you.”

     _The hell it didn’t!_ Daryl growled to himself. _Damn kid coulda told someone there was a chewer in the woods!_

     “Now listen,” Shane continued. “I want you to hold onto that gun, ok? You need to be able to protect yourself. I’ll teach you how soon, I promise, just keep it on you for now.”

     “No way,” Carl said, a frightened edge to his voice. “I am never touching another gun again!”

     Pounding feet raced away from the trees, and Daryl slunk forward into view, looking at Shane. Anger washed anew through him as he bared his teeth. Part of him wondered if he shouldn’t play nice with the only one who knew he had turned into the wolf.

     The man didn’t see the wolf at first, looking at the gun clutched in his hand. Shane sighed and tucked the gun behind his back. As he stepped around, his hard eyes found the wolf.

     Daryl bristled and lowered his head in a predatory move. _Ya need ta tell them._ A low growl seeped between his teeth.

     Shane merely inclined his chin, smirking at the wolf. “Keep it up, Dixon; I’d love to chain your ass up again.”

      Daryl let a snarl build in his throat. _Screw you, man._

     Shane held out his hands. “I’m serious, mutt.” He bent forward slightly, placing his hands on his knees. “Play by my rules, or find yourself on a very short leash.” He shrugged, straightening up. “Or with a bullet in your skull, either way, it’ll just be a weight off my shoulders.”

     Daryl flattened his ears against his head and backed up a few steps, well aware that Shane had at least one gun and his large hunting knife on him. His tail curved low between his hind legs as he felt helplessness begin to surround his thoughts. He turned and once again ran from Shane.

     _____________________________________________________________________

      Daryl dozed in the heated shade of the farmhouse veranda, cursing his lot and trying to come up with other clever ways to get someone to figure out what had happened to him. He both hated and was thankful for Shane’s sharp observance and deductive reasoning.

      Familiar footfalls sounded nearby, and Daryl only had to sniff the air to confirm that it was Rick approaching. A second smell lingered as well, and out of his peripheral vision, Daryl saw Shane coming around the corner of the house opposite Rick.

     Shane climbed the steps of the porch and poured himself a cup of water from the crystal pitcher that Patricia had left sitting out for anyone who needed it.

      Daryl rose to his feet and glared at the man, who stared loftily back.

     “Ya always gotta be underfoot dontcha, mutt,” He remarked snidely.

     “Shane!” Rick called as he got closer. “I need ta talk to you.”

     Daryl only turned to include Rick in his sights as the man finally reached the wolf and Shane, boots thudding up the wooden steps. Daryl wandered slowly to Rick and stood next to the man’s legs.

     Looking down at Daryl, Rick seemed to study the wolf’s body language. Looking to Shane, the man asked, “Why do you insist on terrorizin’ him?” There was a light edge to Rick’s voice, and Shane chuckled back.

     “When he learns he’s not King of the Hill around here, I’ll be nicer,” Shane quipped back, smirking at the wolf-dog.

     Rick bent and rested a hand on the wolf’s head. Daryl let the contact happen. “Nah, he’s a good boy, aren’t ya?” Here the man pulled the wolf’s chin up with his free hand and gazed down into Daryl’s eyes.

     If Daryl’s ears weren’t covered in fur, he knew they’d be reddening in humiliation and indignation. _Dammit, Grimes_. He grumbled quietly, shaking his head free from the overfriendly hands. He stayed where he was though, planted next to the man.

     “Listen, Glenn and I are taking Randall out soon,” Rick said, shifting his weight evenly between his feet.

     Shane’s eyes betrayed his frustration on the subject, and he shook his head. “I’ve got somethin’ to show you.” He proceeded to pull out and hand Rick the gun Carl had snatched from Daryl’s bags.

     “What’s this for?” Rick asked, confusion playing across his face.

     Shane proceeded to recount the story Daryl had overheard between Rick’s son and him, concern coloring his voice.

     “He came to me with it, but I think he really wants to talk with his father,” Shane finished, arms crossing over his chest.

     Rick looked down at the gun and frowned, sadness in his eyes.

     “Why don’t I go with Glenn?” Shane said, a slyness underlying his words that Daryl bristled at. “You can stay and talk with Carl.”

     _Bullshit._ Daryl clipped. He looked up at Rick. _That boy’d be dead ‘fore the sun goes down._

     Rick was already shaking his head, and Daryl knew the man wasn’t buying it either.

     “No, we can put off leaving another hour, we’re fine.”

     Shane smiled, spread his hands and shrugged. “Whatever, man, just a thought.” He set his empty cup back on the small wooden table and made his way off the porch. He stopped and turned back, as if he’d forgotten something.

     “Hey, ya know, I was thinkin’ about when we start breakin’ camp tomorrow, why don’t we go ahead and pack all of Dixon’s things up. Might as well get whatever other ammo or weapons he had.” He didn’t look at the wolf, but he flashed a cocky grin.

     Daryl saw red.

     Next thing he knew, he was being hauled backwards by rough hands, Rick’s voice angry and commanding. Daryl panted in fury, snarling and writhing in Rick’s hold. Shane was stumbling back, and the wolf heard the telltale slide of a knife from its sheath.

     “Down!” Rick growled, straddling the wolf’s body and pinning him.

     As Daryl’s head slowly cleared, he obeyed. He tried to just sit at Rick’s feet, but the man put pressure on his neck and back until he lowered himself completely. He was still panting, his heart racing wild and his chest constricting in an unfamiliar panic.

     Shane paced a few feet away, large knife in hand.

     “You all right?” Rick asked, looking up from where he knelt over the wolf.

     “He just got my boot, no skin,” Shane ground out. “He needs to go, Rick, he’s a loose cannon.”

     To Daryl’s dismay, Rick slowly nodded, his lips a grim line. “I’ve noticed that recently, yeah. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately.” Rick looked down at the wolf, his frown deepening.

     The thought of being abandoned by the man was irrational, Daryl knew that, but he couldn’t stop the rising fear that squashed his lungs and made it hard to breathe.

     “I’ll tie him out again,” Rick said, pointing towards something out of Daryl’s line of vision.

     Shane stalked past them, back towards the porch. The wolf heard some kind of container open, and Daryl remembered a large wooden storage chest on the veranda. Chain started rattling, and Daryl felt his heart sink.

     _C’mon, Rick, don’t do this again._ Daryl felt a whine slip between his teeth. _Man, we got passed all this._ He felt infinitely stupid for attacking Shane. The man had been goading the wolf, and Daryl had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. The fury that had taken over the wolf wasn’t like anything Daryl had felt before. It came from the primitive side of his mind, and in that previous moment, dominated everything the wolf saw. It was like nothing else mattered but Shane’s throat and the wolf’s fangs.

     On of Rick’s hands left Daryl’s back and the wolf heard the chain exchange between men.

     Rick drew the chain around the wolf-dog’s neck, attaching the snap end around a link close to Daryl’s throat.

      It wasn’t like the choke collar, it wouldn’t tighten when pulled, but it also would sit loose enough to escape.

      As soon as Rick stood up, Daryl shot out from underneath him, getting to the end of the length of chain and pulling against it. Looking up at the man, he felt an odd sense of déjà vu heralding back a couple weeks when Rick had held rope instead of chain. It almost seemed like a lifetime ago to Daryl. The initial admiring wonder had been replaced with a hard stare. Daryl felt his ears fold back. Whatever plan he had of getting in Rick’s good graces had been going sideways, and he felt helpless. He hated the feeling.

     “Let’s go,” Rick said, starting to walk.

     Daryl didn’t look back at Shane as he slunk behind Rick in this parade of shame. His ears, head, shoulders and tail all drooped in a mixture of shame, contrition, despair, and grief. He wanted so badly to get back to his old self, but was slowly realizing what he had been blocking out the past several days.

     So what if the others knew? Shane did, and wasn’t helping any. Nobody would know how to change him back, even if they did know it was him.

     Daryl didn’t realize he’d been whining piteously all the way until Rick stopped by the thrice damned shed and turned around.

     Kneeling, the man took a hold of the wolf’s face.

     “You can’t keep acting out like this. You have to behave, or there will be consequences,” Rick sounded remorseful, and he kneaded the fur beneath the wolf’s ears.

     Daryl crept forward carefully, laying his chin on Rick’s knee. _Hell, Dixon, for a wolf, you sure are a pussy._ He berated himself for his weakness. He cast his gaze up to Rick. _‘m not sorry for bitin’ that bastard. He knows, Rick, and he ain’t lettin’ y’all know. He’s got somethin’ planned, I know he does, but y’all too dense ta see it!_

     “Alright, alright,” Rick said softly, smiling.

     He continued to pet the wolf, and _damn_ if it didn’t make Daryl feel like rolling. He ignored the instinct and kept still.

     Rick reached to the side and wrapped the free end of the chain around one of the six-inch wooden stilts holding the shed off the ground. There would be no breaking away from that.

     “I’ll get someone to bring you your water and some dinner later,” Rick’s fingers found the wolf’s ears again. “Be good, boy.”

     The man stood, and without fanfare, walked away.

     Daryl was left alone. Again.

     The wolf curled up tight in the meager shade the tin building offered, settling his head on his paws.

     _Screw all y’all._ The wolf whined softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl. Why do you do these things to yourself? Whew, talk about ANGST. Poor guy, the novelty is wearing very thin, and the seriousness of his situation is setting in.
> 
> Let me know if any grammatical errors glare out at you, like I mentioned above, not beta-read.
> 
> Guys. I am nearly done with Hungry Like the Wolf. The sequel is being planned, and will be called House of Wolves, but honeys, who KNOWS when that will be ready for posting.
> 
> Next Chapter: What everybody has been gearing up for for the last three years. Honestly MITSOM, get your s*** together, Sunshine. 
> 
> Love you all! Please leave me a comment or kudos if you enjoyed this!
> 
> MITSOM

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, tell me what you thought! Or give kudos, that works too! :) Happy travels!  
> Mitsom


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